


Like Wind in My Sails

by lyryk (s_k)



Series: Like Wind in My Sails [3]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Major Character Death (temporary), Post-Curse of the Black Pearl AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-22
Updated: 2009-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 72,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Previously posted under the title 'Infatuated'.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted under the title 'Infatuated'.

Jack walks into James’s living room and throws himself into a surprisingly comfortable wooden chair across the table from the Commodore, surveying his surroundings. For a seemingly stuffy British naval officer’s living room, the place always seems devoid of any overt sense of Englishness. Over the last few weeks, Jack's been around to the Commodore's place quite a few times.

He realises presently that the other man has not said anything at all since his entry, and sneaks a look at him. He meets an amused gaze looking back at him as Norrington sips from his cup. ‘Good morning,’ James says pleasantly.

Jack grunts. He's really not that much of a morning person, but the news he's got today couldn't really wait. ‘Is that tea?’

James lets out a laugh. ‘I forgot my manners. Would you like some?’ Without waiting for an answer, he pours Jack a cup. He keeps his eyes on Jack as he pours, and then pushes the cup gently towards him with the back of his hand. 

‘Are you all right, Captain Sparrow?’ James continues when Jack doesn’t immediately reach for the tea. 

Jack’s tired and sleep-deprived, and trying not to let it show. ‘M’fine.’

‘Drink your tea, then, and let me have your report, please. I assume you have one.’

Jack decides to be direct. ‘Barbossa has a price on your head.’

The Commodore’s eyes widen a little at the bluntness of the revelation. ‘I see.’

‘No, you don’t. He doesn’t want you dead. He wants you alive. Brought to him.’

‘But why?’

‘Search me. I couldn’t find that out. All I know’s he’s promised a helluva lot of doubloons to whoever abducts you and gets you on board the _Pearl_.’

James’s eyes widen. ‘Your ship? Again? I didn’t know, Captain. I’m sorry.’

Jack feels a twinge of exasperation at the man, although he can’t help feeling a little pleased as well. ‘You’ve got to get your priorities straight, mate. My ship’s the last thing that should be on your mind at the moment. Didn’t you hear what I said? They’re out to get you. All the bloody damn pirates of the Caribbean.’

 

\--

 

Governor Swann looks Jack up and down with ill-disguised distaste. ‘Was it really necessary to bring this – man – to my house, James?’

‘I thought you ought to hear what he has to say, Governor.’

‘Oh, very well.’ He turns on his heel and disappears into his study.

Jack turns to James, rolling his eyes. James gives him a swift smile and follows the Governor into the other room. 

 

\--

 

Almost an hour later, Jack is more than a little tired of both the conversation and the almost suffocating warmth in the Governor’s living room.

‘Captain Sparrow?’ James says politely, looking at him.

‘Hm?’ 

‘What do you think of the Governor’s suggestion?’

‘The Governor’s what?’ 

‘Good god, man. Can you not pay attention for a second?’ Governor Swann barks. Jack ignores him completely, throwing James an inquiring look.

‘Governor Swann,’ James says mildly, ‘thinks I should be safe with a bodyguard.’

‘Trust me, Commodore. No one can guard your body when there’s a seaful of pirates out for your blood.’

‘Commodore Norrington will be perfectly safe. The entire Royal Navy is at his disposal,’ Swann says impatiently.

‘Actually, I’d like to propose something else, if I may,’ James says, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, his forearms on his knees. 

‘Go ahead, James.’

‘Well, assuming Captain Sparrow here would consent to it, I think I’d feel safest if he were the one guarding me.’

‘Sparrow?’ The Governor starts.

‘Me?’ 

‘Well,’ James says reasonably, turning to him. ‘You said you didn’t have much to do without – ’ 

‘While I’m ashore,’ Jack cuts in, throwing him a pleading glance, not wanting the humiliation of having the Governor know that he has lost his ship. To his surprise, James catches on immediately. ‘Of course. Over the next few weeks. I can think of no one I’d be safer with. And, of course, you will be compensated for your trouble.’

‘James, you cannot be serious,’ the Governor snorts. ‘You’d put your life in the hands of this – this – pirate?’

‘He's a privateer for the Company now,' James reminds Swann. 'And if he consents, yes.’ James looks at Jack.

Jack shrugs. ‘I see no harm in doing as you suggest, for at least as long as I am in Port Royal.’

James smiles. ‘Excellent.’

They walk back to James’s house in companionable silence. From time to time, Jack throws James a surreptitious glance. The Commodore seems relaxed, his long strides unhurried. As they reach his gates, James turns to Jack and holds out his hand. Jack puts his own in it automatically, and James squeezes it. ‘Thank you, Captain Sparrow. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this.’

‘S’nothing,’ Jack mutters. 

 

\--

 

Later, as they sit beside the crackling fire in James’s study, he takes a swig of rum and asks, ‘Why me?’

James sips his port and looks thoughtfully at him. ‘I trust you to keep your word, Captain. More than I would trust my own men not to be swayed by bribery to give me away.’

‘So they’re a bunch of pirates at heart, then?’

James frowns. ‘I don’t know, Captain. I just know that I have no cause to trust anyone. My letting you go the last time we had you in custody has not exactly endeared me to my men.’

‘Bloodthirsty lot, are they?’

James sighs and pushes his unbound hair away from his face. ‘They are an unequivocal lot, Captain. A pirate, to them, is a creature meant to be hanged at the earliest opportunity. They cannot see my motives.’

‘And what were your motives? In not seeing me hanged?’

‘I could not, Captain. You don’t deserve that.’

‘Why not? I am, after all, a pirate.’

‘More than just any pirate.’ James swills his drink in his glass, takes another sip. He looks up at Jack. ‘You may be a pirate, Captain Sparrow, but you are also undoubtedly a good man. In no way do I think that those two facets are mutually exclusive.’

‘Well, Commodore James, your trust in me will not go unfounded.’

‘I know that.’ He gives Jack a grin. ‘I also know that you will not be keen to betray me to the man who has stolen your ship yet again. Much as you despise the likes of me, I’ll wager you hate him more at the moment.’ He drains his glass. ‘Another drink?’ 

Jack shakes his head mutely, and James gets up. ‘I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa tonight, Captain. I’ll have one of the guest rooms prepared for you tomorrow.’ He smiles swiftly and leaves the room. 

‘I don’t hate you, Commodore,’ Jack mutters to the empty room, kicking himself for not saying it when the time was right.


	2. Chapter 2

James is already breakfasting when Jack goes into the living room the next morning, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. James’s eyes meet his briefly. His hair is damp, apparently freshly-washed, his uniform starched and pristine. 

Jack slips into a chair across the table. ‘Do you always get up so obscenely early?’ he grumbles. 

James laughs and hands him a cup of tea. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘I have to be at my office in thirty minutes.’

‘And how am I supposed to guard you while you’re there?’ Jack asks, lifting his eyebrows.

‘You’re a privateer with the Company now. I don’t see why your presence at the fort should be a problem.’

‘Tell you what. I’ll escort you to work in your coach, and come back for you in the evening. You should be safe enough inside that fancy fort.’

James smiles. ‘Thanks, Captain. Truth be told, I feel a little foolish, having to be escorted around. I’m sure nothing will be amiss.’

‘Yes, well, better safe than not, as they say, Commodore.’

 

\--

 

Later that night, the two unlikely allies sit again in front of James’s fire, rum and port in respective hands. 

‘I’ve been thinking, Jack.’

Jack cocks his head and looks at James inquiringly. 

‘About Barbossa. And your ship.’

‘What about them?’

‘Well, I actually had this in mind when I asked Governor Swann yesterday about asking you to protect me. I can’t keep hiding indefinitely, Jack. I won’t. And you can’t be deprived of your ship. I say we do what Barbossa least expects. Hunt him down. I find out what he wants from me. And you get your ship back.’

Jack stares at him, speechless for a moment. ‘Are you out of your mind? If it were that easy to get the _Pearl_ back, don’t you think I would have tried? What chance would the two of us have against the Barbossa and his crew? They answer only to the Captain, and right now that person is Barbossa.’

‘I’m serious, Jack. What if I can get us a ship, crew and all?’

Jack stares, finding a glimmer of understanding. ‘A navy ship, you mean.’

‘Exactly. If it means bringing Barbossa down.’

Jack frowns. ‘I don’t know, James. Getting my ship back is one thing. Seeing Barbossa hanged is another. I may run my sword through him myself if it comes to that, but handing him over to the bluecoats—’

‘I’m not asking you to do that, Jack,’ James says, looking him squarely in the eyes. ‘I know you live by a code, and I would not ask you to violate it.’

‘What, then? Do you seriously expect me to believe that Commodore James Norrington, the scourge of the pirates of the Caribbean, will let Captain Barbossa go free?’

‘I will leave him in your hands, Jack,’ he says after a pause. ‘To do with him as you see fit.’

‘And none of the _Pearl_ ’s crew would be harmed?’

‘Not a soul. You have my word.’

Jack looks at him, hesitating. ‘Do you trust me to keep my word?’ James asks. 

‘Aye. I think I do.’

‘Then we have an understanding, Captain Sparrow.’ James holds out his hand, and Jack grasps it firmly.

They stay up late into the night, poring over James’s maps, trying to chart out the best course to take. 

‘Are you sure Barbossa is at Tortuga?’ he asks Jack, looking up. Jack rubs his chin absently. ‘Yes, but there’s no telling how long he’ll stay. No matter. I have my contacts, and we can catch up with him.’

James smiles. ‘The _Pearl_ is not an easy ship to find. I should know.’ He throws Jack a grin, and Jack finds himself appreciating the ease and sincerity of James’s expression. ‘Aye, that she isn’t. Not with the right captain.’ He grins back at James, draining the last of his drink with a flourish.

James laughs, leaning forwards to replenish the glass. ‘If anyone had told me a week ago that I would be drinking with Captain Jack Sparrow in my own home, not to mention making plans to partner with him in the wildest of schemes, I would have suggested they see a witch doctor.’

‘Stranger things have happened, mate.’ Jack clinks his glass against James’s.

‘Jack, may I ask you something?’

‘Mm.’

‘At Governor Swann’s. When I asked for you as a protector, I had my reasons. But why did you agree?’

Jack is a little unsettled by the Commodore’s sincere gaze. He shrugs, looking away. 

‘Wouldn’t I be out of your hair once and for all, if Barbossa captures me?’ James presses.

‘I—I’ve been working as your informant for weeks now, Commodore. You’ve helped keep my enemies out of my hair.’

‘Somehow, I don’t think that’s reason enough.’

 _Damn._ ‘I don’t know what to tell you, Commodore,’ Jack says lightly. ‘Maybe it’s just that I’ve nowhere else to be right now.’

James lets the matter go, albeit reluctantly.

 _If he only knew_ , Jack thinks to himself that night, tossing on the too-large bed in the guest room. _He’d probably put a bullet through me without a second thought._

The thought doesn’t prevent the twinge of guilt that Jack feels about everything that the Commodore doesn’t know about his pact with Barbossa.


	3. Chapter 3

Very early the next morning, James is awakened by a knock at his bedroom door. Taylor, his manservant, enters before James can respond. 

‘What is it, Taylor?’ he asks. 

‘Sir, you have a visitor.’

‘At this hour? Who – ’ 

‘It’s Miss Sw– Mrs Turner, sir.’

‘I’ll be right down. Please offer her some tea in the meantime.’

‘If I may say so, sir, she seems quite agitated.’

‘You have my word that I shall dress as speedily as possible, Taylor.’ Recognising the familiar, unrestrained sarcasm in James’s voice, Taylor nods swiftly and hastily departs.

 

\--

 

James bounds down the stairs in his shirt and breeches, barefoot, hastily combing the tangles from his hair with his fingers, trying to achieve some semblance of respectability. 

‘James, thank god.’ Elizabeth rises from the sofa and throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. James reaches automatically to hold her, concerned. ‘What is it, Elizabeth? What’s wrong?’

She pulls back and looks up at him, her eyes unnaturally shiny. ‘It’s – it’s Will, James. He’s missing. I don’t know whom to – I couldn’t reach Jack, and I’ve just gotten back, and I didn’t know – oh, James, I don’t know what to do.’

‘Calm down, Elizabeth. Here, sit down.’ It’s not like the fiery, recalcitrant girl to seem so helpless. 

‘What’s the matter, then?’ Jack asks easily from the doorway. Elizabeth turns to him in utter astonishment, tears forgotten for a moment. ‘Jack? What on earth are you doing here?’ 

‘Long story, love.’ Jack sits down beside Elizabeth on the sofa and enfolds her briefly in his arms. 

‘We’ll fill you in on that later, Elizabeth. Jack is a privateer now, and he is here as my guest. Now, please tell us about William.’

She looks from one to the other, eyes still wide with surprise, but seems more relaxed with James’s hand holding hers, and Jack’s arm draped around her shoulders. ‘Well,’ she begins, ‘we were returning from our honeymoon, and stopped at an inn at Tortuga for the night. When I awoke in the morning, he was gone. Just like that. No one had seen him leave. I looked for him for days, asked everyone I could. No one seems to have seen him at all. It just doesn’t make sense.’

‘How long ago was this?’ James asks.

‘Ten days ago. Oh James, Jack, I’m so glad you’re both here. I’m at my wits’ end. I heard that Barbossa had the _Pearl_ , and I didn’t know how to find you, Jack. I gained passage on a merchant ship that was heading to Port Royal, and came straight to your house, James. I hope that was not out of line.’

‘Of course not.’ James exchanges glances with Jack. ‘You heard about the Pearl at Tortuga, then?’

‘Yes. And I saw her moored in a cove not far from the docks. The locals said that it was a common haven for pirate ships, and I went there hoping to find you, Jack.’

‘You went to a known pirates’ nest, by yourself, hoping to find me?’ Jack says. ‘How many times have I asked you not to do that?’ 

Elizabeth gives him a small smile, even as her chin lifts in a defiant gesture that James had once thought he could fall in love with. Now, he realises, it seems to raise more of a brotherly affection in him. 

‘I had to, Jack. We’d heard just the previous night that the _Pearl_ had been sighted in the area, and I thought Will might have gone to see you.’

‘Without bringing his bride along? Nay, darling, he wouldn’t do that to you,’ Jack says gently.

James puts his hand on Elizabeth’s arm. ‘I know you had your reasons, Elizabeth, but you must be more careful.’

‘James, please. Don’t get protective. I knew what I was doing.’ James drops his hand and she turns to him quickly. ‘I appreciate your concern. I really do. But right now, nothing’s more important than finding Will.’

‘Of course,’ James says quickly. ‘I’ll ask Governor Swann – ’

‘I don’t want my father in charge of this. If I did, I’d have gone to him, James. I want you and Jack.’ 

He looks at Jack. ‘What do you think?’

‘Methinks it’s not a coincidence that young Will disappeared in Tortuga.’

‘Barbossa? You think?’

Jack shrugs. ‘Fits right in with our agenda, doesn’t it.’

‘Barbossa?’ Elizabeth asks, her voice rising sharply. ‘What about him?’

‘Fits in a little too neatly,’ James frowns.

‘You don’t think he could be planning – ’

‘ – to use Will as leverage. I haven’t exactly made a secret of my – ’

‘ – friendship with the Turners. No, you haven’t.’

Elizabeth watches the exchange silently, looking back and forth between them, lips parted in amazement. ‘Jack. James. What is this?’

‘What’s what, love?’ Jack says absently, still looking at James, considering what he has said. 

‘ _This_. You, in James’s house, looking at _home_. And’ – this with a little intake of breath, as if it is the most inconceivable of all these hallucinations – ‘you two finishing each other’s sentences!’

Jack flashes her a gold-toothed grin and leaps to his feet. ‘Fill ‘er in, James.’

‘Where are you off to?’

‘Gotta see a man about a blacksmith.’ He lopes easily out of the room. 

 

\--

 

As he opens the hall closet and helps himself to one of James’s overcoats, Jack hears Elizabeth’s voice, raised in astonishment. ‘Did he just – did he just call you James?’ 

He leaves the house with an unsuppressed grin, with absolutely no sense of remorse for having left James to deal with the unreasonably ardent Mrs Turner. 

_Okay, time for business. If I were a Barbossa stooge who could give Captain Jack Sparrow information – with a little persuasion, of course – where would I be holed up?_

 

\--

 

‘Sir?’ Groves is looking at him expectantly.

‘Sorry – you were saying?’

‘Admiral Benson sent word that he will be in his offices at two p.m. For your appointment, Commodore.’

‘Oh. Yes, yes. Thank you.’

As Groves leaves, still looking a bit disconcerted at James being so distracted – the Commodore is never distracted – James sighs and pushes his chair away from his desk. Everything seems unbearably magnified this morning: the stifling air enclosed by the grey granite of the walls of the military fort around him, the starched stiffness of his Navy breeches, and not least the distinct scratchiness of his wig. He pulls the thing off his head and discards it on the desk, striding to the windows at the far end of the room to open them as wide as possible. 

The one thing that James has always loved about his office is the remarkable view from the window of the harbour, and the limitless ocean beyond. The one thing that really spikes his blood about being in the Navy; the feel of a ship rocking under his boots, the smell of the sea, the taste of salt on his lips. It enthralls him, even more than – he smiles to himself, leaning out of the window and letting the sea breeze ruffle his hair and breathing in deeply – even more than chasing pirates all over the Caribbean. _Pirate_. Amazing, really, he muses, how easily words can change their definitions almost overnight. 

The smile falters as he notices the position of the sun overhead, and realises the time. He had not been worried when Jack had not returned from his self-appointed task in time to escort him to work, but surely he should have heard from him by now. Probably distracted by something or other. With any hope, a good lead; but with Captain Jack Sparrow, one can never be sure. He pushes the worry to the back of his mind for the moment, knowing Jack can take care of himself.

It is a short walk from the fort to the small tavern where he likes to eat lunch. The Imperial Arms, belying its grand name, is an unassuming, almost shabby little establishment that he has frequented during his posting in Port Royal, preferring its quiet, smoky interiors to the more elite, glittering establishments that many of his colleagues favour.

‘What’ll it be today, Commodore?’ Katie, the waitress, smiles at him as he takes his favourite seat in the corner by the tarnished window overlooking the street, removing his coat and draping it over the back of his chair. He smiles back effortlessly at her as he undoes his cuffs and rolls his sleeves halfway up his forearms. He always likes the way she uses his title – not as a meaningless epithet underscoring his authority, as so many of his subordinates seem to do, but as a cordial, familiar term of addressing him that rests easily on his ears, like a tune one is accustomed to hearing from one’s childhood days. ‘Surprise me, Katie.’

She smiles and hurries away in the direction of the kitchen, her starched white skirts rustling. James turns to watch the street, chin propped on his hand. He has always loved this old street with its motley selection of vendors and stalls, its aromas of spices and fruit, and the fact that it runs parallel to the beach. He reaches behind him to pull his customary after-lunch cigar from a pocket and lights it, inhaling its spicy aroma. 

A loud wail from the street catches his attention above the rest of the bustle, and he inclines his head to see a small, golden-haired boy on the pavement outside, trying to pick himself up after a fall, his knee skinned quite badly. There seems to be no adult in supervision, and James frowns. The boy sits down at the edge of the pavement, rubbing at his streaming eyes. Not a safe place, by any means, for a toddler to be sitting down. In a few seconds James is crouching beside the child, a hand on his shoulder. ‘There, now, that doesn’t look so bad.’

The child’s tears are stilled by the sheer surprise of being spoken to by this stranger who towers over him, even while down on one knee. He blinks at James through a curtain of endearing, if straggly, curls. 

James smoothes the tendrils gently back over the sweaty little forehead. ‘Now that’s more like it. Shall I help you clean that up?’ He indicates the bruised knee. The boy says nothing, but bites his quivering lip as the reminder of the grievous injury seems set to release another torrent of tears. 

‘Uh-uh.’ James lifts a finger to stop the flood. ‘Big boys don’t cry.’ The suddenly remembered phrase from his childhood sounds ridiculously unconvincing even to him, but it seems to do the trick for the time being. ‘Let’s make that better, shall we?’ He takes out his handkerchief and, not having any water to clean the bruise with, gently brushes away the mud sticking to the raw pink skin. Then he wraps the cloth around the small leg, barely the width of his own forearm, and binds it there. The boy follows his every movement with his startlingly blue eyes, frowning with concentration. 

James finishes his task and sits down next to the child, who is still looking down at his hands. No, his arm. He realises that the source of the boy’s fascination is the long, thin scar on the inside of his forearm. He smiles and pushes his arm out further. ‘Yes, I got hurt once, too.’ 

The child touches the mark with a tiny, inquiring fingertip. ‘Will mine look like that, too?’ he asks, the tone musical, the first words he has spoken. James arranges his face into a serious expression, the doctor about to deliver his diagnosis to the patient. ‘Well, that depends. What’s your name?’

‘Jimmy Smith, sir.’ 

‘Well, Mr Smith. I’m happy to say you’ll be completely well very soon. _If_ you listen to everything your mum says, and not go wandering off without her.’ A word comes unbidden to his lips, and he smiles. ‘Savvy?’ The child gives him a baby-toothed grin in response, savouring the new word. ‘Savvy.’

‘Jimmy!’ A woman’s voice sounds from behind them, and he looks up to see Katie standing there. ‘Mamma!’ Jimmy looks up in pure delight. Katie leans down to gather her son in her arms. ‘Oh, Jimmy. I told you to stay in the kitchen.’ She looks down at the handkerchief around his leg. 

‘It’s just a scratch,’ James assures her as he gets to his feet, brushing himself off. 

‘Oh, thank you, Commodore. If you hadn’t been here… He gets bored when I’m working.’

‘He won’t do it again. Will you, Jimmy?’ Jimmy turns to him with serious blue eyes. ‘Savvy.’ Katie’s eyes widen, and James solemnly shakes hands with the boy. ‘Come on, Jimmy.’ She takes his hand, gives James a smile of gratitude and starts walking back into the tavern. ‘Your pie’s getting cold, Commodore,’ she calls from the doorway before disappearing inside.

Before he can move to follow her inside, two things happen simultaneously. He hears a familiar voice, a strangled cry: ‘James!’ To James’s right, Jack is pushing through the crowd on the pavement. 

From his left, a loud rattling of wheels and the sound of clattering hoof beats indicates that a coach is rumbling down the street much too fast. He turns to see a black-curtained carriage bearing down on him, the sharp glint of metal as an arm emerges from the window, pistol in hand. 

‘ _James!_ ’ 

James turns with the intention of ducking into the doorway of the tavern, but then there is the sharp crack of a pistol, and his legs give way under him. It’s only when the side of his face slams against the cobbled street that he registers the familiar searing heat of a bullet tearing into his flesh. 

The coach screeches to a halt next to him. A dark hood is forced over his head and his arms are drawn roughly behind him, and then he is being dragged violently into the coach, hearing the wheels starting to rattle again, hearing that crack again of a bullet being fired, and then his head sinks to the floor and a most unwelcome blackness envelops him.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack looks down at the untouched pie, a solitary tendril of steam rising from its surface. He brushes a fingertip over the delicate gold brocade on the blue Navy coat hung carefully over the back of the chair, fingers the still-warm, barely-smoked cigar in the wooden astray in the centre of the table.

The young, golden-haired waitress sits in James’s place, a shaking hand pressed to her forehead. ‘It were – it were over before I knew it. He’d just – he’d just gone outside to help me son.’ Her eyes widen even more as her hand drops. ‘Oh, god. If Jimmy – if my son hadn’t been outside – it’s all me fault.’

‘No. Listen. Listen to me. What’s your name?’ 

‘Katie Smith.’ She gulps back a sob. 

‘Katie, it was not your fault. It was a planned ambush. If he hadn’t been there at the time, they would have waited until he went out. Or, worse still, stormed the tavern.’ 

‘He – he used to come in here so often. He was always… always so nice to me. Not like…’ her voice trails off. 

He puts down some coins on the table for the pie, puts the blue coat over his arm, enfolds the cigar in his hand. ‘What happened to the Commodore wasn’t your fault, Katie. It was mine.’ 

 

\--

 

‘So. Captain – Jack Sparrow, is it?’ Admiral Benson leans forward, elbows on his desk, steely grey gaze attempting to penetrate Jack’s dark, unfathomable stare, and failing miserably. 

‘S’right. Admiral.’

‘Captain Sparrow, perhaps you would be so kind as to explain to me what you were doing at the scene of the crime this afternoon.’

‘Just happened to be in the neighbourhood.’

‘Is that so? And were you not, according to all accounts, a house guest at Commodore Norrington’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wouldn’t you call it an extremely interesting coincidence that the Commodore’s guest happened to be at the scene at the precise moment he was shot?’

Jack lifts a shoulder in a gesture of bored, careless arrogance that has become increasingly familiar to him over the hours of questioning that the Navy has subjected him to.

‘How did you know to be there?’

‘Told you, Reverend Mother. Was taking a walk along your fine, pretty beach.’

The pallid face flushes with annoyance. ‘Perhaps a night in incarceration would loosen your tongue.’ He clicks his fingers. 

Two of his flunkies step up, and Jack finds manacles around his wrists and ankles. He touches his hands to his forehead. ‘Be seeing you, then, Grand Llama.’ 

As he turns to leave he glances at Groves, who has stood stone-faced by the wall during the interrogation. The man’s face betrays no evidence of thought as he leads the way down several dismal stone corridors before stopping in front of a small cell. A flat, bare wooden board is fixed to the wall with two rusty chains, the room’s only furniture. Jack steps nimbly in before anyone can think to shove him inside, and keeps his gaze on the stone wall in front of him until the footsteps of his captors have faded away. 

Then he sinks to the floor, his back against the wall, and rests the back of his head against the cold stone. His eyes close, and the memories of the afternoon that he has kept so carefully at bay finally breach his defences and come crashing through. The memory of trying to get to James through the crowd; of seeing the cold black arm protruding from the coach with its weapon aimed squarely at James’s back; of screaming James’s name; of hearing the gunshot and seeing James fall. A dark clad man emerging from the doors even before the coach has stopped; James being dragged into the coach, another pair of arms assisting to pull him in. The door slamming shut, the wheels rattling. Ducking his head to dodge the bullet fired at him through the window as the coach pulls away, already turning the corner before he reaches the dark stain on the pavement that is James’s blood. Dropping to his knees there, trying to breathe through the painful stitch in his side. Hearing a strangled moan, his eyes automatically following the sound until they come to rest on a young woman in the doorway beside him, her apron splattered with flecks of blood, her eyes wide with disbelief. And from behind her, a small hand clutching at her skirt; a small, golden head peering.

He wills himself to calm down. James had appeared to trust him, just as Jack had wanted him to. Everything had gone according to plan, really.

And yet, he’d betrayed James today, just as surely as if he’d pulled that trigger himself.

He leaps to his feet and begins kicking the metal bars of his cell repeatedly, welcoming the blunt pain the action causes to his foot. ‘Open this door, you Navy bastards!’

A tall, wigged, blue-coated figure appears outside the cell, and an insane hope rises in Jack’s breast for an all-too-brief moment. ‘What’s this about?’ Groves asks. ‘Are you ready to make a confession?’

‘Confession be damned, you son of a whore,’ Jack snarls softly, as quiet and still now as he was feral and turbulent a moment earlier.

Groves looks around, and then unlocks the door to the cell and steps in. ‘Why didn’t you tell them?’ he whispers.

Jack glowers silently at him.

‘Let me refresh your memory,’ Groves goes on, speaking hurriedly, still managing to retain some measure of sarcasm in his voice, as if he is trying valiantly to compensate for his Commodore’s absence. ‘You came here this afternoon. In quite an agitated state, I might add. Demanding to know where the Commodore was. When I told you, you ran from the fort as if the very devil were after you. You knew of the danger the Commodore was in. Why did you not speak up when you were being questioned?’

‘Why didn’t you, then?’

‘It was not in my place to do so.’

Jack laughs softly, mirthlessly. ‘Rules, eh?’

‘No,’ Groves says sharply. ‘The knowledge that what you know could yet save the Commodore.’

Jack eyes the boy appraisingly. ‘That knowledge will do you no good, lad. For your Commodore is in the very pit of hell, assuming he’s still alive. And not one of you valiants can do a thing about it.’

‘But you can.’

‘Aye. Perhaps. But since your good Admiral has seen it fit to clap me in irons, I’m no good to myself or the Commodore at the moment, y’see.’

A range of conflicting emotions passes over Groves’s face, and then his expression sets determinedly. ‘Come with me, Captain Sparrow.’

Jack merely raises an eyebrow at the young lieutenant as he swings the door open and leads him down the passage in the opposite direction from which they had come; down a stone stairway, into a cellar, down another flight of increasingly dank steps; until Jack’s lungs grasp at the blessed scent of the night air mixed with the salty tang of the ocean, and they emerge at last into a little cove where a sloop is moored. 

Groves turns to him, looking hesitant now, as though he’s questioning his sanity.

‘Free me now,’ Jack says, impatient. ‘Or take me back inside and be done with it. But don’t stand there gaping, boy.’

Moving as if in a dream, Groves unlocks the chains shackling Jack’s wrists and ankles. ‘Good man.’ Jack rubs his wrists, and then reaches down to do the same to his ankles. When he straightens again, there is a swift flash of steel and Groves rears back, gasping, blood trickling from a small cut on his forehead.

‘You’re a good man, Groves. The prisoner got away, despite your most gallant attempts to stop him.’ He keeps his gaze on Groves’s face until the man nods in understanding, his breathing ragged. 

Jack gives him a brisk nod in turn; then, he’s wading through the water and commandeering the sloop, drifting away into the night. 

 

\--

 

‘Jack Sparrow, you have got to stop breaking into people’s houses,’ Elizabeth says as he comes in, dripping, through the window of her bedroom.

‘No time for niceties, Elizabeth. I need to know everything, everything, that you saw and heard about the _Pearl_.’

‘Jack, wait.’

‘What?’ He bites back his impatience.

‘James,’ she says. 

He sags against Elizabeth, an uncontrollable shiver overcoming him, jolting awareness into his companion. ‘Jack, get out of those wet clothes this instant.’ 

She begins stripping off his coat without waiting for an answer, and he wearily pulls off his sweater and trousers – he’d borrowed the sweater from James – and allows her to wrap a blanket around him, push him back onto the bed, and thrust a flask of brandy into his hands. A flask, he realises, that she has herself been drinking from. He takes a long, shuddering swallow, letting the sharp warmth trickle into the abyss of despair inside him.

‘James,’ she says again, quietly, sitting at the edge of the bed. He leans his head back against the too-soft pillow, his eyes closed. Elizabeth puts a hand on his knee and shakes him. ‘Jack, who took James?’

‘I’m not certain.’

‘But you have your suspicions?’

He forces himself to open his heavy eyelids. ‘Aye.’

‘The same people who took Will?’

He takes another swig of brandy before responding. ‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘Barbossa?’

‘I think, as James thought, that Barbossa has Will.’

‘Jack, please. I need more than these enigmatic scraps of information you’re throwing me.’

He sits up straight, pulling the blanket closer around his cold shoulders before reaching out to place his hand over her smaller, smoother one. ‘I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I’ll tell you everything I know.’ 

Unbidden, the voice in his head comes back to taunt him. _Liar_. He pushes it away firmly. 

‘I’m listening.’ Elizabeth’s voice sounds, and the silent voices slip behind closed doors in his mind.

‘As you know, I’ve been passing news on to James about certain nefarious activities over the last few months, upholding my duty as a citizen of this, er, fine land.’

She snorts. ‘Only when it was profitable to you. James told me this morning about Barbossa putting a price on his head. Now cut to the chase.’

Jack grins, a shadow of his usual grin, but a grin nevertheless. ‘This morning, I learned that a certain pirate had arrived in the region with the intention to make good on that, ah, request of Barbossa’s.’

‘Who?’

‘Goes by the name of Zima.’

Elizabeth gasps.

‘You’ve heard of him, then.’

‘Yes – oh, Jack – I’ve heard stories about him flaying members of his own crew to within an inch of their lives.’

‘Not a pleasant pirate to be acquainted with, our Captain Zima. Nor, as you may well imagine, does he treat his prisoners well. I should know. I’ve set foot on that vile ship of his more often that I’d care to remember. I’d never speak ill of any ship but his _Prince_. He likes to think of his ship as a man, and a fouler, more insidious man I have never known. The very air around it smells of pure malevolence and spilled blood.’

‘And this – this man has James?’

‘Aye. I think so.’

‘And Barbossa has Will.’

‘Very likely. My informant this morning had nearly admitted to it, but I was in a spot of a hurry then.’

‘What was so pressing?’

‘Finding out that the _Prince_ is moored at an island not twenty nautical miles from Port Royal. And that Zima’s first mate had already arrived here this morning to hunt James down.’ Jack’s voice is toneless, his face impassive.

There is silence for a minute. Then Elizabeth says, ‘Why did you want to know about the Pearl, Jack?’

‘Eh?’

‘When you came in, you asked what I knew about the _Pearl_.’

‘Oh. Aye. I think it’s time, yet again, to attempt an unlikely alliance with Captain Barbossa.’

‘But – if Zima has James, surely Barbossa would be more willing to ally with him?’

‘Aye. Which is why I need to get word to Barbossa before he finds out that Zima’s got James.’ 

‘What are you going to bargain with, if he wants James?’

‘Never underestimate Captain Jack Sparrow’s resourcefulness, love. And _I_ ,’ he continues, waggling his eyebrows for emphasis, ‘am not going to be the one bargaining with Barbossa. _You_ are.’

She blinks. ‘I am?’

He gets off the bed and pulls on his trousers again in a single, fluid motion, shrugging off the blanket, his plan clicking into place in his mind. ‘Tomorrow morning, you will set off for Tortuga by road. Go to the tavern, the Faithful Bride. You know it?’

‘Yes. Yes, that’s where Will and I stayed the night.’

‘Well, if any of my ‘faithful’ crew are around – meaning the ones who saved their skins and abandoned the _Pearl_ when Barbossa took over – that’s where they’ll be. Do not meet Barbossa on the _Pearl_ , but request a negotiation on land. If you can get that far, tell him I’m on my way to honour the terms of our original accord. He’ll know what I mean.’

‘Just how much aren’t you telling me, Jack?’

‘Plenty, darling. But for your own safety.’

‘Safety?’ she scoffs. ‘I’m off to meet Barbossa alone, remember?’

‘Never said you were going alone. You’re taking the good Lieutenant Groves and half the bleeding Royal Navy with you.’


	5. Chapter 5

The sloop purrs under Jack’s bare feet as he stands at the helm, sucking absently on James’s unlit cigar. In front of him looms the dark bulk of the _Prince_ , menacing even in its apparent shapelessness against the night. He brings the sloop home smoothly in the cove, as far away from the ship as he can manage. ‘Great big dirty ogre,’ he mutters, addressing Zima’s monstrosity. His arrival has not gone unnoticed, and he soon sees a small rowboat headed his way. Anxious to get on board – _never thought I’d see the day_ – he wades out to meet it.

Five minutes later he is standing in the captain’s cabin, facing the man himself. Zima has changed little since their last meeting. Tall, colourless and slender, he’s always reminded Jack of the fanged, bloodsucking creatures he has heard about in legends. The man’s long, skeletal fingers steeple themselves under his chin as he looks thoughtfully at Jack.

‘Well. Captain Sparrow. At last.’

‘You’ve been expecting me, then.’

‘Of course. Captain Barbossa was kind enough to apprise me of your little… arrangement.’

‘Of course.’ Jack’s tone is equally mild, pleasant.

Zima’s eyes, as coal-black as his thin, greased-back hair, bore into Jack’s. He feels suddenly weary under that gaze, knowing that the other man has all the power at that instant. And, in all likelihood, has James as well.

‘Mind if I sit down, then?’ Without waiting for an answer, he sits on the edge of the desk furthest away from Zima.

Zima’s brow creases slightly, thoughtfully. ‘I must confess I’m somewhat at a loss as to why exactly you’re here, Captain Sparrow.’

Jack raises his eyebrows. ‘Thought you said you knew I’d come.’

‘I did, naturally, considering I have the prize that everyone seems to be seeking. But I don’t understand what you hope to gain by coming here by yourself.’

‘What prize might that be, exactly?’

‘Come, come, Sparrow. Let’s not play games.’

‘I wasn’t aware that I was.’

‘Wonderful. Come to the point, then.’

‘The Commodore.’

‘Ah, yes. The man of the hour, indeed.’

‘You have him, I presume.’

Zima’s eyes glitter with amusement. ‘Since you nearly thwarted my men’s abduction of the man, you hardly need to presume what you know for a fact.’

‘Wasn’t aware that your men were in the habit of shooting bullets into prisoners who were meant to be kept alive.’

‘Ah, yes. You may rest assured that the filth that disobeyed my orders has been suitably reprimanded.’ Zima inserts a long fingernail between his teeth to worry at something lodged there. ‘I specifically told them to shatter his kneecaps.’

‘So is he alive, then?’ Jack keeps his tone offhand, leaning back and folding his arms in a careless gesture.

‘I believe so.’

‘I don’t believe Captain Barbossa will be pleased to know you’ve slaughtered his only hope of getting what he so sorely seeks.’

Zima lets out a high-pitched laugh at that, almost a giggle. ‘Do you seriously think for one moment that I care what Barbossa thinks?’

‘Nay. But I _seriously_ think you care about that which Barbossa seeks.’

‘And what, precisely, might that be?’

‘Now, now, Captain. You don’t seriously expect me to answer that.’

The amused glitter is back in the dirty black eyes. ‘I have ways of loosening tongues, Sparrow.’

‘I have no doubt that you do, Zima. But you’re a wise man. You wouldn’t make mincemeat of a man you’d be better allied with.’

‘Namely, yourself.’

‘Of course, my dear man,’ Jack says in a perfect imitation of Zima’s unimpressive accent. _Like a scholar’s. Or someone desperately seeking to project a façade of intellectualism. Something to keep in mind._

‘What is it that you come to offer me, Sparrow?’ The voice is more brisk now, concealing a bite of impatience.

‘An alliance. A guide to lead you to what Barbossa wants.’

‘And what, pray, is your motivation for offering me your assistance?’

‘Need my ship back.’

‘Ah, of course. Barbossa has, yet again, commandeered your little sailboat from under your very nose.’

‘Do we have a deal, or not?’

‘Not until you tell me what Barbossa seeks.’

‘Not until I see that the prisoner is alive.’

Zima leans back, scrutinising him for several moments. ‘Very well. Karcher!’ A man steps out of the shadows. ‘Please escort our guest down to the brig.’ He inclines his head at Jack. ‘You will see, Sparrow, that I am a reasonable man.’

Jack acknowledges the comment with a nod before following the taciturn Karcher below deck.

 

\--

 

The cell that James is lying in is more a cage, bars on all sides, surrounded by dank darkness that reeks of blood and grunge.

He throws Karcher a glance. ‘I need to get inside.’

The stooge hesitates. ‘Cap’n didn’t say anything ‘bout that.’

‘Then go and ask him, mate.’

The man purses up his lips in confusion, then nods and disappears.

In an instant Jack is crouching beside the cell, a hand on James’s foot. Still warm. He crawls around to the opposite side, stretching himself full-length on the grimy floor so that his head is level with the prisoner’s. ‘James,’ he whispers, reaching a hand through the bars, holding it in front of James’s nose. There’s a faint flutter of a breath on the back of his hand. He’s alive. He slips his hand into James’s shirt and runs it over the unconscious man’s shoulders and chest, but there is no sign of a wound. Which means that the bullet that entered his back is probably still in his body. 

‘James, please.’ He puts his hand on the top of James’s head. No response at all. 

Then he sees the barbed wire that is holding James’s wrists and ankles fast against the bars of the cell. The sight freezes the blood in his veins. 

Karcher’s returning footfalls make Jack rise to his knees beside the cell. ‘Cap’n says no entering the cell.’

‘This man is seriously wounded, mate. He has a bullet in his back that has to be removed.’ 

‘Cap’n says no one goes in.’

Jack gets to his feet. ‘What’re those pretty bracelets you have on his hands and feet, then?’

‘Standard bindings for prisoners, Cap’n Sparrow.’

‘Ah, but as you can see, your charming trinkets are cutting into his skin. Did you know rusted metal such as this can poison a man’s body faster than you can say Jack Sparrow? If the prisoner dies, Karcher, I’m willing to bet my ship that there’ll be an opening on the _Prince_ for a new first mate.’

The man chews anxiously on his lower lip. Jack turns away from him, removes his coat, and pulls his sweater – James’s sweater – over his head.

‘What’s that you’re doing?’

‘Saving your skin, mate.’ Jack tears the soft cloth into strips, and then reaches between the bars to carefully free James’s left wrist from the gruesome binding, unwinding the spiked wire as gently as possible from James’s torn skin. He wraps a strip of cloth around the wounded skin, as much a bandage as a restraint, and then reluctantly ties it off against the bars. If he doesn’t do the job properly, someone else is going to come along and redo it with far more brutality. Then he repeats the process with James’s other wrist and his ankles, working methodically and single-mindedly. 

Karcher watches silently as he works, shifting from foot to foot, not at all sure about the propriety of this, but clearly mindful of Jack’s words about what is likely to happen to him if the prisoner dies under his charge.

Finally Jack finishes his task and straightens, eyes dropping to the unmoving dark head a last time before he pushes past Karcher and strides away without looking back.

 

\--

 

‘What you’re asking is quite impossible, Sparrow.’ Zima watches him closely with narrowed eyes.

‘Why? I want the prisoner’s wounds attended to so that he will live.’

‘From what Barbossa told me, only his body is needed.’

‘Aye. And his blood, which must be fresh if the spell is to be successful.’

‘A spell.’ Zima leans forward eagerly. ‘I thought as much, of course. But what does the spell do? Come, Sparrow, it was a fair deal.’

Jack’s hands tighten into fists at his sides.

Zima’s eyes travel over him again. ‘Surely you don’t have any misgivings on our eminent prisoner’s account? Or have you forgotten that he has spent most of his illustrious career trying to send you to the gallows?’

‘The spell will unlock a secret, an ancient secret that will give unimaginable power to whoever is privy to it.’

Zima is barely breathing now. ‘What kind of power?’

Jack runs his hand wearily over his face. ‘I’m not sure. Except that it has something to do with being invincible. Oh, and having eternal life.’

Zima’s eyes glitter with absolute cupidity. ‘Indeed. And why is it that only James Norrington’s blood will unlock this secret?’

‘Because of his ancestry.’

Zima exhales slowly. ‘Of course. The ancient spell that ensures that none but one’s own kin can unlock the doors to one’s treasures.’

‘Are you going to help me get the _Pearl_ back, then?’

‘Of course. I am a man of my word. Karcher, set sail for Tortuga right away.’

‘Not so fast, Zima. I’m not sailing with you.’

‘And why not?’

‘I’ve got other business to attend to, first.’

Zima eyes him for a long moment. ‘Very well. You will rendezvous with us in Tortuga.’

‘Aye, I will.’ He turns on his heel and walks to the door; then pauses for a moment to speak over his shoulder. ‘And I expect the Commodore to be alive when you get there.’ 

Zima’s laugh follows him as he strides onto the deck. Without waiting for an escort, he swings himself over the bulwark and dives into the water.

The sharp coldness of the water slices through his body like a knife as he wriggles his way to the surface. As his head breaks through into the damp night air he lets himself bob in the water for several moments, filling his lungs, trying to rid them of the suffocating smell and atmosphere of the hated ship. He looks back at the ship over his shoulder before striking out for the shore.

 

\--

 

He enters the sloop’s tiny cabin, dripping, to find Anamaria waiting there.

‘Captain.’

‘Ana.’ He strips off his wet coat and breeches and throws them over a chair, unmindful of her presence. She keeps her eyes on his face as he wraps a blanket around himself before throwing himself down in the chair and swallowing several mouthfuls of much-needed rum.

‘Did you – did you go down to the brig?’

He leans his head back against the wall. ‘Yes.’

‘There’s nothing Gibbs and I could do to prevent it.’

‘I know. Does anyone suspect?’

‘No. Not that I’m aware of. We’ve kept to the galley, mostly.’

‘What could you find out?’

‘Not much, Captain. But we’ve taken care of the gunpowder and the rest of the ammunition.’

He gives her a grunt of approval, and opens his eyes. ‘That’s as much as I could expect you to accomplish, Ana. You need stay on that ship no longer.’

‘And the Commodore?’

He doesn’t meet her eyes. ‘What about him?’

‘You’re not just going to leave him there?’

‘What do you care about the Commodore, Ana?’

‘Same’s you do, Jack. He did give us one day’s head start. And you’ve been working in cahoots with him for some time. He’s helped us out.’

‘Aye. That he has. You’ve told no one of our collaboration, Ana?’

‘Not a soul, Jack. Not Gibbs, not my own mother.’

‘You don’t have a mother, Ana.’

‘I wouldn’t have told her if I had one. I ask again, Captain. Do you plan to abandon him to his fate?’

‘I have to leave him there, Ana. I have no choice.’

She gives him a curious look, but nods. ‘I’ll stay with him, Jack. But you’d better not leave him down there for much longer.’

‘I won’t, Ana. Nor you and Gibbs.’


	6. Chapter 6

Dreams are good. Better than reality. Especially when reality has turned into a seamless, unending nightmare. 

This dream is especially good. In it, James is whole, his body unmarred by fresh wounds. Someone’s talking to him, whispering, saying pleasant things. 

The voice fades as the pain grows sharper, and the voice loses its sway over him even as his awakening, protesting mind tries to hold desperately to it. 

‘ _Jim_.’ The voice breathes a last, soft endearment to him before sleep dissipates completely. His eyes open to the abominably familiar sight of a black ceiling above him. He is spread-eagled securely on his back, wrists and ankles lashed with what feels like cloth to the bars surrounding him. 

He's seldom conscious. Thinking is a task that would require several armies to help him accomplish at this stage. For he is no longer aware of time; he has no idea if he has been in here for days or weeks or months. He never hears a human voice, never sees anything except for the black ceiling above him. 

_Think, damn it. What do I know? Facts, Commodore. List the facts that you know._

_One, I can’t have been in here for more than a few days at the most, because I would be dead otherwise, seeing that I can’t remember the last time I ate or drank anything._

_Two, I can’t have been in here for more than a few days at the most, because I can feel that bullet lodged in my back, and my wound is open. So, reasonably, I can’t have been in here more than a few days._

_Three, they are keeping me alive for a reason._

_Four, I think I’m on a ship. No. Confidence, James. I know I’m on a ship. I’m on an anchored ship that doesn’t seem to have moved at all since I was brought here. Is that a good thing?_

_No, stop thinking in rhetorical terms. Facts only, please._

_Five… No five. Nothing else I know. Think, damn it. There must be something, something that can help you._

_Five, I must be on a pirate ship._

_Six, the ship has not moved since I have been on it, and I could not have been unconscious for very long – no, no, wait for it – ergo, the ship in question must not be very far from Port Royal._

_Superlative, James. Unless they only move the ship when I’m unconscious. To disorient me._

_Stop it, James. That’s utterly ridiculous._

He feels himself begin to slip into unconsciousness again. _Seven. I know there was a seven._

 

\--

 

He awakens to the sound of footsteps, somewhere behind him. The gentle splash of water, and then he feels a trickle run into his mouth and down his throat. The sound of footsteps moving away. He manages to open his eyes.

‘Gibbs,’ he says, recognising the figure instantly. Or thinks he says. All that comes out of his throat is a hint of a whisper, but it is enough.

The other man’s eyes widen in surprise, and he returns instantly to James’s side. ‘Commodore. You’re awake,’ he whispers. 

James tries to speak again, but his throat will not cooperate. Gibbs lifts his head by placing a hand under the back of his neck, and allows him to sip more water.

‘Gibbs,’ he manages finally, barely more than a croak, but somewhat coherent. ‘Am I – this isn’t – the _Pearl_?’

‘Lord sakes, sir. Course not. It be the _Prince_.’

‘Ah. You – here?’

‘It’s a very long tale, Commodore, and one that you don’t have the strength for. Why, I was expecting you to be dead by now. You’re a strong man, Commodore.’

‘Thanks,’ he manages wryly. ‘You – won’t help me?’

The man hesitates. James closes his eyes briefly as something – perhaps just the blessed assurance of laying eyes of another living being again – threatens to engulf him in darkness. _Jack_ , he remembers. Jack had been there. He'd seen James get shot.

‘Gibbs – Jack knows.’ 

‘The Captain?’

Throat too tired to attempt speech again, James nods. 

‘He’ll be here soon. Captain Zima’s been getting right impatient.’

James shakes his head slightly to try to clear it. Something about that doesn’t make sense. ‘Gibbs,’ he tries again. ‘Jack – and Zima?’

‘Er, Commodore. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Captain Sparrow’s with Captain Barbossa and Captain Zima on this. Surely you knew that?’


	7. Chapter 7

‘Lieutenant Groves.’ Jack nods at the man in front of him. ‘Captain Sparrow,’ Groves replies with equal courtesy, inclining his head. 

‘Jack!’ Elizabeth flings herself at him. ‘It worked! I don’t know how, but it worked!’ Jack pulls back, smiling at her despite himself. He looks over her shoulder to see young Turner entering the captain’s cabin of the _Dauntless_. Will holds out a hand to him, and Jack grasps it. ‘I owe you yet another debt, Jack.’ 

Jack smiles briefly. ‘It was your lass here who did all the work, Will.’ He looks quickly at Groves. ‘And the good Royal Navy.’

Groves has the grace to smile. ‘All done without firing a single shot. All we had to do was point the cannons of the _Dauntless_ in his direction, and Barbossa gave Mr Turner up without a squeak.’

Jack frowns at Elizabeth. ‘You were supposed to bargain, love. Didn’t send you out here so you could point Navy weapons at my ship.’ 

‘Ah, shut it, Jack,’ she grins. ‘Our way was better.’

Jack concedes, looking around the cabin. ‘Don’t s’pose you Navy types would have any rum around?’ he asks Groves. 

The man smiles slightly. ‘I don’t think the Commodore would mind if I offered you his wine.’ He pours out some port and Jack takes it, downing half the glass in one swallow. He sits down in James’s chair behind the desk, suddenly bone-weary.

Elizabeth and Will exchange glances. ‘Jack?’ Elizabeth asks quietly. He takes another sip of wine. ‘Hm?’

‘Have you heard anything of James?’

‘He’s a prisoner on board the _Prince_.’ He hears Groves’s sharp intake of breath. 

‘Zima’s ship?’ Groves pales. Jack looks at him, nodding. ‘You’ve heard of him, I take it.’

‘Who hasn’t?’ Will groans. ‘Jack, is there nothing we can do?’

‘Nothing you and Elizabeth can do,’ he says firmly. ‘I want you to go home.’

‘But – ’

‘No buts, Elizabeth. I mean it.’

‘James is our friend, Jack,’ Will says quietly. ‘We can’t abandon him now. He needs us.’

‘There’s nothing you can do for him.’

Will makes an impatient sound. ‘Jack, I know you couldn’t care less for him, but Elizabeth and I do. And we need to help him.’

‘I want to get the Commodore out just as much as you do, Will. Trust me. He’s the key to all this.’

‘You mean you want to get him out and hand him over to Barbossa,’ Will snaps. 

‘Now why would I want to do that?’ Jack asks mildly.

‘Don’t play games with us, Jack. I need to know what your intentions are.’

Jack sighs. ‘I’d tell ye if I knew myself, lad.’

Will gives a short, humourless laugh. ‘Don’t tell me Captain Jack Sparrow doesn’t have a plan.’

‘Would ye believe that this is uncharted territory for Captain Jack Sparrow?’ 

Will seems to be thrown by something in his tone. ‘But – you’ve been up against Barbossa before. And Zima as well. Haven’t you?’

‘Aye.’ 

‘Jack,’ Will says, impatient. ‘What do you intend to do next?’

‘I fully intend to get the _Pearl_ back.’

‘And James?’

Jack doesn’t respond. He fixes his eyes on the bookcase next to the desk. Trust James to have a hundred books in the cabin on a Navy ship.

Groves steps forward. ‘Captain Sparrow, we have the _Dauntless_. I have no doubt that we can get an entire fleet to confront the Prince and free the Commodore.’

‘Then why don’t you?’ Jack says shortly.

‘Because we don’t know where Zima is. And because,’ he adds slowly, ‘even if we could find them, they’d probably murder the Commodore before we could fire a single shot at them.’

‘We’re in a right pretty pickle then, aren’t we.’ 

‘Captain Sparrow’ – Groves’s voice sounds almost pleading now – ‘As Mr Turner pointed out, you and the Commodore have not exactly been on the best of terms. But – ’

‘Groves, my good man,’ Jack says, feeling wearier than ever, ‘I can assure you I’d like nothing more than to hand your Commodore back to you, safe and sound. But I think we can all agree that’s not going to happen anytime soon. But you can all’ – he glances round at the three pairs of eyes boring into him – ‘rest assured that I’ll do my best to get him back.’

‘And why should we trust you?’ Will asks, eyes narrowed.

Elizabeth’s eyes meet Jack’s, and he stares back at her. ‘What Jack means,’ she says slowly, ‘is that James is the key to a treasure that any pirate would give his right arm to have. And Jack’s not likely to let another pirate get his hands on it. Isn’t that right, Jack?’

Jack blinks. ‘Aye,’ he says finally. ‘I’ll be damned if I let another pirate get that treasure.’

Will looks relieved. ‘Well, then. So you _will_ do your best to get him out of Zima’s clutches?’

‘I will.’

 

\--

 

The _Black Pearl_ looms large before Jack, filling his vision. 

Five minutes later he is standing in the captain’s cabin – _his_ cabin – glaring down at Barbossa. 

‘So.’ Barbossa throws him a nasty look. ‘You managed to deprive me of my hostage.’

Jack raises his eyebrows. ‘What makes you think I had anything to do with that?’

Barbossa laughs. ‘It had Jack Sparrow written all over it.’

‘That’s _Captain_ Jack Sparrow to you.’

‘Of course. Where are my manners?’

‘Let’s cut out the niceties, Barbossa.’

‘Aye, let’s.’ Barbossa’s voice is suddenly sharp. ‘I hear Zima has Norrington.’

‘He does.’

‘According to our pact, you were supposed to watch him.’

Jack closes his eyes briefly. ‘I failed.’

‘That could not be more obvious.’

‘Give me my ship back, Barbossa, and I’ll get Norrington back.’

Barbossa raises his eyebrow, and the monkey on his shoulder tilts his head to watch Jack as well. ‘That’s the flimsiest reason I could ever think of for giving away a ship such as the _Pearl_ , me lad.’

‘Flimsy? That man is the key to everything you seek.’

‘Aye, but I don’t see how losing my ship is going to get me any closer to capturing Norrington.’

‘ _My_ ship,’ Jack corrects. ‘And if my plan works, you’ll have the _Prince_.’

Barbossa’s eyes narrow to slits. ‘What plan?’

‘Simple, really. The _Pearl_ gets to the treasure first. We lie in wait for Zima, ambush him, and then use Norrington to get the treasure ourselves.’

Barbossa laughs. ‘What makes you think the _Pearl_ can outdo the _Prince_?’

‘She can. But just to be sure, we have the Commodore’s ship as well.’

Barbossa raises his eyebrows. ‘The _Dauntless_? The ship that nearly blew your precious _Pearl_ out of the water a few hours back?’

‘They’ll help.’

‘Even if they know what we intend to do to their precious captain?’

Jack frowns. ‘What exactly do you intend to do to him?’

Barbossa looks curiously at him. ‘And why do you care?’

Jack shrugs. ‘I don’t give a damn about Norrington. Are you with me on this?’

Barbossa studies him. ‘Very well. If I get the _Prince_ , you can have the _Pearl_ back.’

‘I need the _Pearl_ back now, Barbossa. Zima doesn’t know the location. The only way I can convince him to go there is if he thinks we’re no longer working together.’

‘Do you think I’m a fool, Jack Sparrow? Tell me what stays my sword from piercing your heart right now.’

Jack flashes him a grin. ‘Cause I know where the good Commodore is, and you don’t.’ _And you don’t know that Zima is headed to Tortuga as we speak, you scurvy, ship-stealing bugger._

‘Then get me Norrington, and I’ll think about giving the _Pearl_ back to you.’

Jack doffs his tricorne at him. ‘As you wish, _Captain_.’

 

\--

‘The _Prince_ is headed this way? Why didn’t you say so before?’ Groves’s voice is sharp with surprise.

Jack paces the floor of James’s cabin. ‘Because I didn’t want a bloodbath, Groves.’

‘But – what else can we do but attack him, if he attacks us first?’

Jack stops pacing to give him a look. ‘I thought it was you who said that attacking the _Prince_ was not an option while the Commodore is aboard.’

Groves groans. ‘So we just let ourselves get butchered, and the Commodore as well?’

‘I didn’t say that, boy. Let me think.’ He sits down in James’s chair, opposite Groves. The lieutenant drops his head in his hands. 

Jack takes another swig of James’s wine. ‘Groves,’ he says quietly, and the man looks up. ‘I didn’t want to say this in front of Elizabeth and Will, but… the Commodore’s in a bad way. I’m not even – I’m not even sure he’s still alive.’

Groves’s eyes widen with shock. ‘But – don’t they need to keep him alive?’

‘Aye. But Zima – he’s a nasty piece of work, Groves. I think torturing James matters more to him than getting his hands on the treasure.’

‘You just – you just called the Commodore – ’

‘James,’ Jack says resignedly. ‘I did. Focus, Groves. Think. We need to get him off that ship before the battle begins.’

‘How can we do that?’

‘First of all, I think we need to get the _Dauntless_ out of sight. If Zima sees you here, there’s no telling how he’ll react.’

‘Captain Sparrow, I respect your opinion.’ The young lieutenant sets his jaw determinedly. ‘But the _Dauntless_ is not going anywhere without her captain.’

Despite himself, Jack smiles. ‘You’re a good man, Groves. But you’re going to get your captain killed if you don’t do as I say.’

‘Captain, what you’re asking is quite impossible.’

‘You don’t know yet what I’m asking, Groves.’

 

\--

 

‘Er, Commodore. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Captain Sparrow’s with Captain Barbossa and Captain Zima on this. Surely you knew that?’

No, that can’t be right. How ridiculous of Gibbs to think that. ‘No,’ James says. ‘Jack – tried – help me.’

‘Gibbs!’ an angry voice hisses from somewhere behind him. ‘What’s taking you so long?’

‘He’s awake, Anamaria! I was jus’ giving him a bit of company.’

‘He’s awake?’ And then Anamaria appears in his line of vision, her face the wrong way up as she bends over him. She reaches into the sash around her waist and pulls out a small knife. 

‘Here, Ana, what are you – ’

‘Shut up and help me cut him loose, Gibbs. That’s an order.’ 

‘But – ’

‘If you won’t help, leave. But try to stop me and I will have you fired for insubordination when Jack returns.’

It sounds so remarkably like a military threat that James is almost surprised into entering the real world again. Before he can appreciate his emerging sense of freedom, he finds himself overcome by blackness again.

 

\--

 

‘Captain Sparrow?’ A hand is shaking his shoulder. Jack jerks back to wakefulness, lifting his head from James’s desk. 

‘It’s one of your – officers, sir,’ Groves says, sounding a bit uncertain.

Jack looks to the door. ‘Gibbs!’ 

Groves looks a bit uncomfortable at the nonchalance with which pirates seem to be sauntering on and off the _Dauntless_ , but stands back as Gibbs comes in.

‘Cap’n Sparrow, sir.’

Jack feels a cold hand grip his heart. ‘Is the Commodore - ?’

‘We have him, sir. Hidden in the munitions bay.’

Jack lets out his breath. ‘What happened?’

‘We found him awake, and, well, Anamaria insisted that we get him out.’

‘Can we get him off the ship?’

‘I dunno, Captain. It’s not going to be easy. ‘Swhy I came to find you, Cap’n.’

Jack springs to his feet, opening James’s cabinet. As expected, he finds a box of medical supplies, and rummages through it to pick up a few items. ‘We need to tend to his wounds. Groves, are you prepared to do as I suggested?’

The lieutenant nods. ‘We’ll see you at the rendezvous, Captain.’

Jack claps him on the shoulder. ‘Good man.’


	8. Chapter 8

In the semi-darkness of the cavernous hold where the _Prince_ ’s ammunition is stored, Jack’s eyes fall on two figures against the wall at the far end: the motionless figure lying on the floor, his head cradled in Anamaria’s lap. Jack’s eyes meet hers, silently thanking her, clasping her hand briefly, tightly. His other hand is already on James’s throat, checking his pulse. Fainter than it should be, unsteady.

‘We need to turn him over.’ There is a small groan from James as Jack’s arms slip around his waist to roll him carefully over onto his front. ‘Ana, think you could find some water?’

‘Aye, Cap’n.’

‘Gibbs, keep a lookout.’ Gibbs nods and disappears.

Alone now with the prone figure, he eases James’s shirt off his body, letting out a shaky breath as his eyes fall on the congealed blood around the bullet wound in James’s back, just to the right of his spine. James lets out another small sound, his head moving ever so slightly.

‘Cap’n,’ Ana says from beside him. She hands him a pitcher of water, and he takes out his pocket knife and rinses the blade repeatedly in the water. Soaking a clean handkerchief – pilfered from James’s cabin – in the water, he cleanses away as much of the congealed blood as he can from James’s back. He hands Ana the small bottle of medicine and the bandages he has brought. ‘Hold these, Ana.’ Then, without giving himself time to think further, he inserts the tip of the small blade into the wound.

James moans, struggling to open his eyes. 

‘Easy, Commodore,’ Anamaria says. ‘Easy. We’re just getting that bullet out of your back.’ 

Jack releases his breath as he feels the tip of the blade nudge the bullet. He eases the blade under the unseen object, pushing upwards, and feels James silently shudder with pain under him. He slides the tip of a finger into the wound to help ease the bullet out, keeping the blade moving upwards, and then, finally, draws out the small nub of silvery metal. Fresh blood begins to leak from the wound, and he quickly stems it with the handkerchief. ‘Ana, the salve, please.’

 

\--

 

James stiffens as he hears Jack’s voice. Surely you knew that, Commodore? He forces himself to lie still as he feels Jack’s fingers smoothing a cool, sticky salve onto his wound. 

His eyes fall on his own hands in front of him, his fingers beginning to unclench as the ointment soothes the pain in his flesh. The remains of the cloth still wrapped around his wrists seem vaguely familiar, and he looks more closely. My sweater. The one Jack was wearing when… He closes his eyes again. Incontrovertible evidence, then, that Jack had been there during his incarceration. 

 

\--

 

Jack folds the handkerchief into a square and covers the wound with it, and then takes one of the bandages from Ana and unwraps it. He lays a strip along James’s back, trapping the padding against the wound, and takes a deep breath as he rests his hand lightly on James’s hip. ‘Turn over, James.’ 

James presses a palm against the floor and raises himself a little, turning over onto his back. Jack moves quickly to wrap the bandage around his back and chest.

Jack ties off the bandage, and finally lets his eyes travel up James’s chest to his face. James’s gaze catches his own with utter resoluteness, refusing to let go. He knows, Jack realises with crushing certainty.

‘Cap’n?’ Anamaria’s voice forces him to look away. ‘What are we going to do?’

He sits back on his heels. ‘I don’t know, Ana. We can’t just walk down the gangplank with him.’

‘No, you can’t.’ James’s voice is very soft, very hoarse. ‘But you can,’ he continues, ‘leave without him.’ He pulls himself up a little so that he can rest his back against the wall.

‘Commodore, we can’t leave you here,’ Anamaria says. She lifts the pitcher of water to his lips, and he drinks deeply. 

‘I don’t even know where here is,’ he says.

‘You’re on the __Prince__ , Commodore. We’ve just docked at Tortuga.’

‘I remember now. Gibbs told me.’ He looks quickly at Jack, and away again. 

Jack opens his mouth furiously to speak, but no words come out. ‘James,’ he says finally. ‘Think you can walk?’

‘I can. I can try,’ James says. ‘No time like the present to try,’ he goes on, conversationally, and pulls himself to his knees. He sways a little, steadying himself with a hand against the wall. Unsure if James will tolerate his touch, Jack turns away and goes to the door.

Gibbs turns around anxiously as he appears. ‘Well, Cap’n?’

‘I’m not sure if he can walk. What are our options?’

‘Short of jumping overboard, you mean? Not many, Cap’n.’

‘Then let’s jump overboard,’ James says from behind them, and Jack turns around to see James, a little unsteady but standing, Anamaria’s arm around his waist and his arm around her shoulders. 

‘No, James,’ he says sharply. ‘You won’t be able to swim.’

‘I’m quite certain I will.’ 

Jack stares at him. ‘You’re mad.’

‘It’s the only way. Besides, you can help me.’

‘Yes, but – ’

‘No buts, Jack.’ His voice sounds stronger now, and Jack smiles faintly at the stubborn resoluteness in his tone.

‘Commodore, you can’t be serious,’ Anamaria says impatiently. 

James turns his face to hers. ‘I was never more serious, Anamaria.’ 

Jack looks at Gibbs. ‘Which is the safest place to jump off, and how far is it?’

‘I think that would be at the lowest deck, sir. Next to the galley, from where the refuse is thrown overboard.’ 

‘Good man. James, you can’t go out there bare-chested with a bandage on. Wear this.’ He takes off his coat, and helps James put it on. 

Getting to the galley is surprisingly easy, since they don’t have to venture out on the main deck. In fact, the galley is completely empty, and Jack silently blesses the stars as they go through, James’s arm around his shoulders this time. He reaches the railing and looks down at the water, several feet below them, and glances at James. ‘You sure about this?’ 

James nods, and looks at Gibbs and Anamaria. ‘I don’t think we all need to go this way.’ 

Gibbs looks immensely relieved. ‘Right you are, Commodore.’ 

Jack nods. ‘Ana, you and Gibbs go ahead. Wait at the Faithful Bride. I’ll send word for you.’

Anamaria nods. ‘You be careful, Jack. And you, Commodore.’

After his crew members have left, he turns to find James’s eyes on him. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, James – ’

‘Can wait,’ James says quietly, and Jack nods, swallowing hard. James looks down at the water. ‘You first, or me?’

Jack looks over the railing, relieved to find that the deck extends a little on the other side. ‘Together.’ 

He climbs over and helps James do the same, their feet barely finding place to rest on the narrow ledge. James sways a little, and Jack tightens an arm around his waist to steady him. ‘You all right?’

James staggers against him. ‘Now, Jack. I can’t – can’t stand.’ He clutches at Jack’s shirt. 

‘Now,’ Jack agrees, and grabs his hand before letting go of the railing. They fall rather than jump, hitting the water like stones, pulled under by the waves.

Jack comes up for air, gasping; James’s hand is no longer in his. He takes a deep breath and dives under again. James is not far below the surface, but his eyes are closed, his hair swirling around his head. Jack grabs the back of his collar and kicks out for the surface again. 

He pulls them both on to a rock, gasping for breath, arms straining. James is very still, and Jack realises with a jolt that he is not breathing. His palms come down on James’s chest, pressing hard, pushing the water out of his lungs. 

‘Come on, James, please,’ he pants, bending over him, prying James’s lips apart with his fingers, breathing into his mouth. He is panicking now, pressing harder against James’s chest, as water trickles from James’s mouth. ‘James, for god’s sake, breathe. Breathe.’

Finally, mercifully, James’s body arches and his head moves, and he begins coughing out more water. Jack supports him with an arm around him, rubbing his back, encouraging James to let all the water out. 

Several moments later, James stops coughing and leans back against him, his hand on the arm that is still around him in a tight grip. ‘I’m all right, Jack.’ 

Jack says nothing, but keeps his arm around him. James leans back against him, his breathing ragged. After several minutes, he sits up shakily. ‘I suppose that wasn’t such a good idea,’ he says ruefully. 

Jack shakes his head. ‘You’re here, and you’re alive. It was a great idea.’

‘I’m sorry. I was a nuisance.’

‘Don’t be daft, James.’

James shakes his head, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. ‘You and your crew had to put your lives at stake because of me.’ He looks up suddenly at Jack. ‘What were they doing on the _Prince_ in the first place?’

Jack grins at him, trying not to reveal how relieved he is to see the vivacity return in some measure to James’s eyes. ‘Long story, mate.’

James nods, not pressing for details, his eyes wandering to the ocean around them. ‘How long was I in there?’

‘Five days,’ Jack says carefully, watching him.

James nods again, his eyes lost as he turns to Jack. ‘This is real, isn’t it? You’re really here?’

Jack’s forehead creases. ‘Of course I’m here, James. Why wouldn’t it be real?’

‘I kept – I kept dreaming. That I was out of there, that I was in a place with – a place where I was happy.’

‘What kind of place?’

James shakes his head. ‘I don’t remember. Just that it was… pleasant.’ He frowns, looking out to sea again. ‘I wish I could remember.’

Jack shakes his head, incredulous. ‘You were shot, abducted, and held prisoner for five days, and you want to remember a dream?’

‘I – I can’t explain it. I think it helped me survive.’

Jack clenches his hand to stop it from reaching for James. ‘You made it out because you’re strong, James. You fought.’

‘And because you came back for me.’ 

It’s a moment before Jack realises what James has said. ‘I came back,’ he admits, looking away.


	9. Chapter 9

James opens his eyes with a gasp, and pain burns through his wounded back and his bound limbs as his eyes gaze with horror at the black ceiling above him.

‘James! James, it’s all right.’ Jack is shaking his shoulder urgently, trying to wake him. His eyes fly open to find Jack’s face looking down at him, his eyes anxious.

James closes his eyes again in relief, clutching at Jack’s arm for a moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, breathing deeply to compose himself, and releases his hold on Jack’s arm as he opens his eyes again. ‘Where are we?’

Jack takes up the oars of the rowboat again, and inclines his head to something behind James. He turns around to find the strangest pirate ship he has ever seen. The unmistakable Jolly Roger flying from its mast, black sails fluttering in the wind, very much like the _Black Pearl_ ’s; huge and navy blue, the colour of…

‘Jack!’ he gasps, turning around. ‘ _What_ have you done to my ship?’

Jack is grinning from ear to ear. ‘Thought you’d like it, mate. She looks grand, doesn’t she?’

‘Jack Sparrow, I – ’

‘That’s _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, love. Captain, or Jack. You know that.’

‘Jack, _mate_ , are you determined to have me send you to the gallows after all?’

‘Of course not, Jim. It’ll all be clear in a minute, you’ll see.’

Something stirs in James’s mind, and he stares at his grinning companion as he keeps rowing. ‘Say that again.’

‘Say what, love?’ Jack says absently, bringing the boat into the cove beside the ship, springing out lithely to start tying her rope to a rock.

‘My name.’

‘James?’

‘No. You called me – ’

‘Jim.’ Jack’s expression is curiously soft as he looks down at James. He holds out a hand to help James out of the boat, and James takes it. 

‘You didn’t call me that before, did you?’

‘I – no.’

As Jack ducks his head to lay the oars carefully at the bottom of the boat, James wracks his brain. _Jim_. The name leaps out from his memory, or perhaps from a dream.

‘You all right?’ Jack asks. ‘Need to sit down for a moment?’

James shakes his head to clear it. ‘No. No, I’m fine.’ Even as he says it, he has to put a hand on Jack’s shoulder to keep standing. 

‘You’re not fine, James,’ Jack says, his arm strong around James’s waist. ‘But you will be. Let’s get you on board your ship, shall we?’

‘Commodore!’ a delighted voice cries as they approach the ship, and James blinks. Running toward him is someone who _sounds_ familiar, but who looks like – a very confused pirate. He skids to a stop in front of James and grabs his hand, shaking it vigorously. ‘Bless you, sir, you’re safe!’

‘Groves?’ he says weakly. Has the world turned upside down in five days? He turns to Jack. ‘How long was I gone, again?’

Jack throws back his head and laughs uproariously. ‘Still your ship and your men, mate. Just in disguise, is all.’

 

\--

 

‘Captain Sparrow, I don’t know about the Royal Navy, but this ship and her crew are forever in your debt.’ 

Jack looks at Groves’s earnest face, grinning. ‘I’ll bear that in mind, Groves.’

‘Do you have any word on what Zima is planning next, sir?’

‘Captain, mate. Captain, or Jack.’ Jack grins again. His face is starting to hurt now, but the thought that James is asleep in his bedchamber is enough to keep a smile plastered on his face. 

‘Captain,’ Groves says proprietarily. 

‘Zima? Probably attacking my ship.’ Jack’s grin is wiped clean off his face as he remembers. 

‘Should we not help her, Captain?’

‘Aye. Since your captain is indisposed, I agree we should sail to the _Pearl_ ’s aid immediately.’

Groves nods, salutes smartly, and vanishes. Jack stares after him in astonishment. A _salute_. From a _Navy_ man. 

After a quick visit to the galley, he steps quietly into James’s cabin. The Commodore is murmuring inaudibly in his sleep. Jack sets the bowl he is carrying on the small table next to the bed, and sits down at the edge of the bed.

‘James,’ he says, smoothing the damp strands of dark hair away from the sweat-soaked forehead. ‘James, it’s all right.’ James gasps awake again, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling, as if he expects to see the Kraken itself there. Finding no monster, he groans and covers his eyes with a shaking hand. 

Jack keeps his hand on James’s forehead, rubbing his temple with his thumb, feeling him starting to relax. ‘All right?’ he asks as James lowers his hand and opens his eyes. James nods.

‘Brought you some soup. Should get some food into you.’

‘Thanks, Jack. God, I’m ravenous.’

James sits up and eats a few spoonfuls of soup, bit by bit. When he can’t eat any more, Jack covers up the dish. ‘Best to take it slow anyway. Give your body time to adjust.’ 

James looks up at him in the semi-darkness, and Jack shivers suddenly as the expression in those eyes changes. He looks down at his hands.

‘You were there, Jack,’ James says, his voice still a little soft with disuse.

Jack peers up into James’s face again. ‘How much do you know?’

‘Enough, I suppose.’ 

‘You don’t know enough, James. If you knew the truth – ’

‘I do know the truth, Jack. What I don’t know are the details.’

Jack is looking down at his hands again. 

‘Look at me, Jack.’

Jack looks up reluctantly. 

‘I know the truth,’ James says again. 

‘What truth do you know?’ Jack asks, dreading the answer.

‘From what I gathered from your loyal, tight-lipped crew, you made some sort of pact with Barbossa and Zima to get me into their hands.’ 

Jack groans and closes his eyes.

‘I also know that—‘

James breaks off, and the cause is all too evident to Jack. Where there was absolute silence a moment ago, but for their voices and the gentle creaking of the _Dauntless_ , an all-too-familiar noise blasts the silence apart: the sound of cannon fire, followed shortly after by a crash as a ship takes the hit.

Jack leaps up and pulls the curtain over the porthole aside, and sees an image from his nightmares: the _Pearl_ with a great hole in her side, smoke and fire rising from her deck, and a monstrous grey ship bearing down on her.

James already has his feet on the floor. ‘Go,’ he says, and Jack nods at him before tearing out of the cabin. A moment later, he ducks his head back in. ‘You. Stay.’ Without waiting for an answer, he slams the door shut behind him before racing out of the captain’s office and on to the deck.

‘Hard-a-starboard, Groves!’ he calls as he runs toward the helm, and Groves obeys instantly, handing over the helm as Jack almost crashes into him, panting. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, the _Dauntless_ slides into place between the _Black Pearl_ and the _Prince_. Her white flag is already up, but Jack is unsure if Zima is in the mood to honour any such emblems. He sees the man on the deck of his monstrosity, and cups his hands around his mouth. ‘Parley, Zima! Parley!’

Zima raises a hand to pause the next round of firing. ‘Give me back my prisoner, Sparrow, and we’ll talk.’

‘Let the _Pearl_ be, and we’ll talk.’

‘Why do you care about your old ship, Sparrow? Looks like you’ve got yourself some new allies.’ Zima stares with distaste at Groves and the remainder of the _Dauntless_ ’ crew, in their pirate get-ups. ‘Reload!’ he calls to his men.

Jack looks at the barrels of ammunition brought forward at this command, and grins suddenly. Zima frowns. ‘Is the thought of your imminent death amusing to you, Sparrow? Fire!’

Nothing happens.

‘I said, fire!’ Zima screams. One of the men manning a cannon tries again, valiantly, to obey his captain’s command. The great gun lets out a woeful ‘pffft’, and is silent.

Jack grins broadly. Anamaria and Gibbs, he decides, should be made Pirate Lords. He knows the brief respite will not last long, and even as the thought enters his mind, Zima’s men begin swinging over the bulwarks of the _Dauntless_ , swords and pistols finding their marks even before their feet touch the deck. 

Jack glances back toward the _Pearl_. ‘Think you can handle this melee on your own, Groves?’

‘Aye, sir!’ Groves gasps, already clashing swords against two of Zima’s men at once. 

‘Good man!’ Jack takes a running leap into the water, and begins swimming toward his ship for all he is worth. He shimmies up the anchor chain, rolls on to the deck and springs to his feet, dripping. 

‘Why the fuck isn’t anyone at the helm?’ he screams. ‘Cotton! Murtagg!’ His former crew – no, _his_ crew – are all under cover, and a few soot-covered faces emerge at the sound of his voice. 

‘Cap’n Sparrow!’ 

‘Ragetti!’ He grabs the man by his collar and shoves him back against an unmanned cannon. ‘Where’s Barbossa?’

‘Haven’t seen ‘im since the _Prince_ attacked, Cap’n.’

‘Well, what’re you waiting for, man? Raise the anchor. Now!’

‘Aye, Cap’n!’

‘Murtagg, you and your men, get on the _Dauntless_. Yes, you miserable buggers, that ship over there that’s just saved your stinking hides. Get on that ship and _help_ them before I slice your heads off! The rest of you, at the cannons. Now, dammit!’

A chorus of ‘Aye, Cap’n’s greets this yell, and Jack is already running to the helm as the _Pearl_ is freed of her restraints and he guides her away from the _Dauntless_. The _Pearl_ quivers under his touch like a welcoming lover after a long parting, and he closes his eyes briefly as he runs his hand over the helm. 

‘I’ve missed you too, girl.’ He opens his eyes and sets his jaw. ‘Now, let’s make sure James gets to keep his lass too, shall we?’ He guides the _Pearl_ out to sea, further and further away from James’s ship, before turning her around a hundred and eighty degrees and bringing her to the port side of the _Prince_ , sandwiching Zima’s ship between the _Dauntless_ and the _Pearl_. 

‘Cotton, you and your crew man the guns! And _use_ them, for fuck’s sake! The rest of you, follow me!’ Without waiting for an answer, he swings himself on board the _Prince_.

Yells and whoops follow him as his men follow suit, and he lands on top of three of Zima’s men, knocking them neatly over and getting to his feet immediately, his sword arm thrusting, the other hand wielding his small but trusty knife, making his way toward the helm, and Zima. The sounds of sparring blades and pistol shots fill his ears, and then there is a boom as the _Pearl_ opens fire, followed closely by another attack from the _Dauntless_ , and the _Prince_ shudders. Jack almost-but-not-quite loses his footing, and finds a skin-headed pirate taking advantage of his momentary lapse of balance to run his blade through Jack’s left arm, probably aiming for his chest but missing because of the heavy juddering of the great ship. He steadies himself by running his sword through the man, battling himself through more thrashing bodies in his way, to arrive finally at the helm.

Amidst the chaos on his ship and around it, Zima stands statue-still, leaning back calmly against the wheel, his arms folded over his chest. The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement as he watches Jack walk slowly toward him, his hand clamped over his bleeding arm. ‘Wounded in battle, Sparrow? Tsk Tsk. I see you like to join your men in combat, like some common pirate.’

‘I see you don’t,’ Jack observes, maintaining an appearance of calm as his brain whirls to find a solution to stop the combat.

Zima smiles, thin lips stretching over very white teeth. ‘I see you found your Commodore,’ he says, inclining his head genteelly toward the _Dauntless_. Jack frowns, following his gaze, and nearly drops his sword when he sees James at the helm, bare-chested in coat and breeches, his unbound hair flying as he ducks to avoid the slash of a blade, a long leg sweeping out to knock his opponent’s legs out from under him. 

Zima laughs in approval. ‘Resourceful young man, isn’t he?’

‘Particularly so,’ Jack says mildly, – _I’ll deal with James later, the incorrigible whelp_ – turning back to Zima, ‘considering the royal treatment you gave him.’

‘Come, come, Sparrow. What’s all this really about? Who are those pirates you intercepted me with? What ship is that?’

‘There’ll be time for conversation later, Zima. Recall your men. Stop this madness. You know you’re outnumbered.’

Zima straightens his back further. ‘The _Prince_ has weathered far more than this little skirmish, Sparrow.’

‘Aye, but what about your people? They’re dying, man.’

Zima shrugs delicately, not deigning to reply.

Jack stares. ‘What do you want?’

‘Him, of course.’ Zima points his chin at the _Dauntless_ again. 

‘And if I refuse?’

‘Refuse, by all means, Sparrow.’ The tiny, coal-black eyes flicker with amusement again. ‘You’re the one who seems to have a problem with gratuitous bloodshed. I am happy to say I have no such qualms.’

‘Call for a temporary truce, and we’ll talk.’

‘Give me one man – your mortal enemy, I might add – and you’ll have an even longer truce, Sparrow.’

Jack grits his teeth. ‘Zima, I want to see this through as much as you do. Call your men back, and I give you my word that the _Pearl_ will escort you to your destination.’

‘She’ll do no such thing,’ a quiet voice says from behind him, and Jack closes his eyes momentarily in despair. 

James steps up to the helm to stand beside him, blood running freely from a gash in his forehead. He swipes at it absently with his coat sleeve, eyes on Zima.

Zima smiles broadly. ‘Welcome, Commodore. You’re a brave man.’

‘No braver than the men who are losing their lives even as you stand here, Zima,’ James replies, his voice still soft, but with a hard edge to it that Jack has not heard since… _since I was on the receiving end of it myself_ , he realises, fighting back a mad impulse to laugh. He glances sideways at James, who throws him a fleeting look at the same instant.

A moment later James is looking at Zima again. ‘Recall your men.’ 

‘But of course, Commodore. Just as soon as you drop your weapon and ask your ally here to leave my ship with his trusty crew.’ 

James turns to Jack and holds out his sword, hilt first, and Jack reaches out automatically to take it. He sees the deep shadows under James’s eyes and the clammy paleness of his skin, and knows that James is barely able to keep himself on his feet. 

‘Go back to the _Pearl_ , Captain Sparrow,’ James says evenly. ‘There will be no more bloodshed today.’

‘This is madness, Norrington,’ Jack snarls.

‘That’s _Commodore_ Norrington to you, _pirate_.’ And Jack is almost certain he sees a hint of weary amusement flicker behind those eyes darkened with pain and fatigue.

Jack turns to Zima. ‘Take me. Take me instead. The _Pearl_ will follow.’

Zima arches his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You don’t seriously expect me to believe your eternally loyal crew will follow, just to get _you_ back? No, dear lad. Thank you for the offer, but I think I’d prefer to keep this charming young man here as my guest.’

Jack tries again, determinedly avoiding James’s eyes. ‘You don’t know where to take him. You don’t know where your precious treasure is.’

‘But of course you will lead us there, my dear Sparrow. I highly doubt you would stay away in any case, so rather than follow us, I give you the honour of leading our little fleet to its destination.’

Jack sets his jaw, resigning himself to the inevitable. ‘I want to see him on deck three times a day.’

‘Granted.’ Zima’s eyes flicker with interest as he looks from Jack to James, both resolutely looking away from each other. ‘Commodore, if you have no conditions to add, I’d be much obliged if you’d kneel and place your hands behind your back.’

James drops slowly to one knee and then the other, his face impassive, although Jack knows from the tight set of his jaw that his body is screaming in protest by now. He clasps his hands behind his back, his chin up, as if he were on the deck of his _Dauntless_ on a balmy Caribbean morning rather than giving himself willingly up to a sadistic pirate, somehow looking a thousand times more dignified than Zima even while shirtless, bloodied, and on his knees.

Jack turns and strides away.


	10. Chapter 10

[Interlude](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2067783)


	11. Chapter 11

‘When was the last time you slept, Jack Sparrow? When was the last time you ate anything?’ 

Anamaria’s furious voice greets him before he even knows that she is on board the _Pearl_. He glances up from his desk, frowning faintly, and waggles his fingers vaguely in her direction. ‘Go away, Anamaria. I’m busy.’ He bends his head over his map again, and says without looking up: ‘And that’s _Captain_ Jack Sparrow to you, you insufferable wench.’

She smiles slightly. ‘Why, Cap’n Jack, how considerate of you to ask. Mr Gibbs and I are both blooming fine. Thank you for your concern. All we had to do was commandeer a boat and find the _Pearl_ in the middle of the blooming Caribbean.’ 

Jack rests his forehead briefly in his hand, covering his eyes. ‘Anamaria – ’

She covers his hand with her own, and pulls it gently down. ‘Say no more, Jack. We heard. But you cannot get the Commodore back by pushing yourself to exhaustion. Have you even slept in a bed since the day he was shot?’

‘Er, Cap’n?’ Ragetti peers warily around the door to Jack’s cabin. 

Jack groans. ‘What now?’ 

Before Ragetti can respond, a large hand clamps down on his head and pushes him aside, and a swarthy man fills the doorway. 

Jack frowns again. ‘Do you mind, mate? You’re blocking the light.’ 

‘Cap’n Sparrow,’ Anamaria mutters at his elbow. ‘I think you’d better pay attention to our visitor.’ 

He looks up at the pirate. Not one of his, unless Barbossa actually spent time recruiting. And not one of James’s, either. Definitely not. 

‘Well, mate? If you’ve something to say, say it and be gone. If not, just be gone.’ 

‘Tyler. Captain Zima’s first mate,’ the man grunts. 

‘You do have a way with words, don’t you? What happened to Karcher?’ 

Another grunt. 

‘I see. How very fascinating. And what can Captain Jack Sparrow do to assist your lovely self on this fine evening?’ 

‘Cap’n Zima wants to know why both your ships have stopped at this here island.’ 

Jack pushes his chair back unhurriedly and stands, leaning both hands on the map spread out in front of him. ‘And Captain Sparrow,’ he says quietly, ‘wants to know exactly where and in what shape the Commodore is.’ 

‘He’s alive.’ 

‘That’s not what I asked you.’ 

‘Cap’n Zima said not to say anything else about the Commodore.’ 

‘Did he, now?’ In an instant, Jack is leaning back against the wall, a pearl-handled pistol in his hand, pointed at Tyler’s heart. ‘Tyler, my good man.’ He shakes his head sorrowfully. ‘If you don’t tell me, in the next ten seconds, where Commodore Norrington is, I’m going to blow your filthy carcass off my ship. Savvy?’ 

Tyler’s tongue darts out to lick nervously at his lips. ‘He’s in the brig.’ 

The hand holding the pistol remains still as stone, pointed squarely at Tyler’s chest. ‘Ah,’ Jack says placidly, and cocks his weapon. 

‘Cap’n,’ Anamaria hisses, looking alarmed. 

He ignores her, his gaze level with Tyler’s. ‘In the same cell he was in before?’ 

The man shakes his head mutely. 

Jack’s eyes narrow to slits. ‘You can tell your captain that we are deciding on the shortest route to our destination. We will set course for it before sunset.’ 

Tyler opens his mouth. ‘Uh-uh. Not a word, matey. Get your bleeding arse off my ship. Sharp-like, if you please.’

The big man turns and slouches off, without so much as a grunt. 

 

\--

 

‘Easy, Groves.’ Jack puts a hand on the young lieutenant’s shoulder as he struggles to sit up in bed. 

Groves groans, trying to straighten his wounded leg. ‘I’m sorry, Captain. Of all the infernal times to be confined to bed…’ 

He takes the glass of water from Jack’s hand and drinks. ‘Thank you, Captain. For everything. If not for the _Pearl_ , Zima would have decimated our crew.’ 

‘If not for the _Dauntless_ he’d have blown the _Pearl_ out of the water. So I’d say we’re even, lad.’

‘Where are we headed, Captain?’ 

‘Scotland.’ 

‘ _Scotland?_ ’ 

‘Aye. It seems the treasure our Captain Zima seeks is somewhere off the west coast. In a cave, I believe.’ 

‘And what does the Commodore have to do with pirate treasure?’ Groves frowns. 

Jack smiles faintly. ‘It seems that the notorious pirate who secreted said treasure in said cave was, in fact, the Commodore’s great-grandfather.’ 

Groves snorts. ‘Impossible.’ 

‘Impossible or not, my good man, that’s what Zima believes.’ 

‘And what do you believe, Captain Sparrow?’

‘I believe he’s right.’ 

Groves looks bemused. ‘If it’s true… might that not cost the Commodore his – his – ’ 

‘His career, yes. If not worse. The good Royal Navy won’t take too kindly to the idea.’ 

Groves shakes his head angrily. ‘It doesn’t change who he is. He’s the finest officer in the Caribbean.’ 

Jack smiles. ‘Let’s concentrate on getting him through this treasure hunt alive, and then you can worry about whether your good Navy will want to hang him for his ancestor’s crimes.’ 

‘It’s not the Navy I’m worried about, Captain. It’s the Company… Lord Beckett.’ 

Jack frowns. ‘Never was fond of the toff myself. I take it there’s no love lost between him and the Commodore.’ 

Groves sighs and shakes his head. ‘I fear Lord Beckett will take any opportunity to discredit Commodore Norrington. The Commodore doesn’t exactly make a secret of his opinion on some of the Company’s harsher laws.’ 

‘Like what?’ 

‘Like hanging pirates and stringing their bodies up in Deadman’s Cay, for example,’ Groves says quietly, meeting Jack’s gaze evenly.

‘I see. I thought that was the sole reason for the existence of the Royal Navy.’ 

‘We do hunt pirates, Captain. It’s our duty. But there are some of us who don’t believe in barbaric customs.’ 

‘What would you rather do with pirates, then?’ 

‘It’s not a question of piracy alone, Captain. The laws… back in England, the laws treat every prisoner like… like vermin. People are sent to gaol without fair trials, for so much as stealing a loaf of bread. There are those of us who believe that the law should be more reformatory in nature.’ 

Jack shakes his head. ‘Good luck to you, lad. If ye ask me, it’s going to take a couple of hundred years to change the laws of your good country.’ 

Before Groves can respond, there is a swift knock and Lieutenant Gillette enters, looking pale. ‘Captain Sparrow… Ted… There’s some kind of activity on board the _Prince_. I think – I think they’re preparing to whip someone.’ 

 

\--

 

James leans his head back against the bars of his small cell, manacled hands clasped in front of him, elbows on his knees. 

_Hell and damnation. I’m getting sick of being locked up in this maniacal pirate’s brig._

The few precious hours of sleep on board the _Dauntless_ have done him good, despite their subsequent unravelling during the battle. His body has rarely felt so abused, so driven to the very extreme of its limits. The wound in his back throbs insistently, and he rests his head on his forearms for a moment. The cut on his forehead has mercifully stopped bleeding. _At least I should be thankful I’m not in that cage again_. 

He raises his head wearily as footsteps approach down the narrow corridor outside the cell, willing himself to appear stronger than he feels. A heavyset man with a thick black beard and large gold rings in his ears unlocks the door, and James recognises him as the first mate. ‘On your feet,’ he grunts. 

‘Where are we going?’ James pulls himself to his feet, trying to ignore his body’s protests. 

‘Cap’n’s cabin.’ 

In Zima’s cabin, Tyler shoves him down to his knees with a heavy hand on his shoulder. James allows himself to be manhandled, biting back his anger. _Best not to give Zima an excuse to tear me apart._

Zima turns around from the window, where he has been standing and smoking a pipe. ‘Ah, Commodore. How nice of you to join me.’ 

‘What can I do for you, Captain?’ James keeps his tone placid, uninterested. 

‘Oh, just answer a few questions for me, that’s all.’ 

‘I’ll try my best,’ James says wryly. 

‘Good. I’ll get right to it, then. Where are we headed?’ 

James shrugs. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ 

‘Come, come, Commodore. Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you have no idea where this all-important treasure of yours is hidden.’ 

‘It’s not mine, Zima. Nor do I have the slightest interest in it.’ 

‘Somehow, I find that extremely difficult to believe.’

He shrugs again. ‘I really don’t care much for any of your beliefs, Zima.’ 

Zima comes in front of him and leans back against his desk. ‘I think you’ll find me a very persuasive man, Commodore.’ James keeps his eyes on Zima’s, refusing to let himself be disconcerted by the maniacal gleam in the other man’s eyes. 

‘I ask you again, Commodore. Where is the _Black Pearl_ leading us?’ 

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Captain Sparrow?’ 

The pipe in Zima’s hand touches the side of James’s face, sliding down from his temple to his jaw. ‘Perhaps an easier question, then. Who are Sparrow’s allies? Whose is that other ship?’ 

‘Perhaps Captain Sparrow can enlighten you about that as well.’ The pipe trails down to his bare chest, and James closes his eyes as Zima’s hand twists so that the glowing mouth of the pipe is pressed against James’s skin. _Don’t you dare make a sound, James Norrington._

‘Come, Commodore.’ Zima leans down to whisper in his ear, grinding the lit pipe against his chest. ‘You must give me something.’ James’s body jerks back reflexively and he finds Tyler’s massive hands clamping down on his shoulders, holding him in place. 

‘Go to hell, Zima,’ James says through clenched teeth. 

Zima laughs and withdraws the pipe, and James slowly releases his breath. ‘Perhaps you need another little demonstration of what happens to people who don’t comply with my wishes, Commodore. Tyler, would you be so good as to take our guest on deck and chain him to the mast.’

Tyler’s hand descends on the collar of his coat and hauls him to his feet, and James finds himself being dragged out on to the deck of the ship. The sun is just above the horizon, filling the ocean and drenching the perfect blue of the water with its rays. The _Pearl_ and the _Dauntless_ are moored side by side some distance away. 

Tyler slams him against the main mast and turns him around, pushing him down to his knees again. His chained wrists are pulled up above his head, and attached to the mast. 

In front of him, a man tied down to a wooden platform on his hands and knees raises his head to look at James with bloodshot eyes. 

‘You may begin, Tyler,’ Zima’s voice says smoothly, and the first mate flexes the muscles of his hands before bringing a cat o’ nine tails down on the other prisoner’s bare back.

 

\--

 

Jack watches from the deck of the _Dauntless_ as a large wooden platform is rolled on to the deck of the _Prince_. Groves limps up to him, pulling on his coat. 

‘Captain, you don’t think – ’

‘No,’ Jack says grimly, hoping he is right. ‘No, Zima wouldn’t dare.’ 

Gillette comes to stand beside him as well and, flanked by James’s officers, he watches as a man who has been stripped to the waist is dragged on to the platform, his long dark hair covering his face. He watches as the man is forced to his hands and knees on the platform, and bound in place. Then he lets out his breath as James is brought out on deck as well, and watches as he is chained to the mast. 

The burly first mate gives the prisoner the first lash, and the man raises his head and howls, the sound clearly audible even on the deck of the _Dauntless_. 

_Karcher,_ Jack realises as he sees his face. _Poor devil’s probably being ‘reprimanded’ for letting James escape._

‘Shouldn’t we do something?’ Groves asks, squirming uncomfortably as the punished man’s screams continue to rent the air. 

‘Aye. Aye, we should.’ 

 

\--

 

James turns his face away from the tortured features of the screaming man in front of him, his hands tightening on their chains, feeling utterly helpless. His eyes meet Zima’s small, gleaming ones. ‘Don’t do this, Zima. You’ll kill him.’ 

‘Do you know who he is?’ Zima says conversationally. ‘My former first mate. And he is being punished because of you, Commodore. Because you escaped under his watch.’ 

James says nothing, keeping his eyes averted as the whip comes down again. Zima’s skeletal fingers entangle in his hair, forcing his head around. ‘Look at him, Commodore. I assure you, you’ll find yourself in the same position if you keep refusing to cooperate with me.’ James looks, and sees that the man’s back is now a mass of bloody flesh. 

‘Enough, Zima. What are you trying to prove?’ 

Zima tightens his grip on James’s hair, forcing his head back against the mast. ‘I think you know very well what I’m trying to prove, Commodore.’ 

With his head wrenched back, James looks into the sky and freezes as an apparition slides into his view. A golden statue, an angel with an outstretched hand, releasing a bird into the air; reminding him beguilingly of a small jade figurine on a worn thread around a charming stranger’s wrist. The figurehead of the _Pearl_ drifts out of his view, to be replaced by the solitary figure of her captain at the helm. Their eyes meet, and Jack slowly raises his hat and replaces it, his eyes not letting go of James’s until the _Pearl_ slips out of James’s sight. 

Zima curses, shouting orders to his men, and the _Prince_ prepares to leave. The _Dauntless_ has already sailed behind the _Pearl_ by the time Zima’s ship launches itself heavily after them, the two prisoners on the deck forgotten for the moment.


	12. Chapter 12

_All this time chasing Captain Jack Sparrow and his ship, and I never saw it. I looked, but I couldn’t see._

The figurehead on the _Pearl_ had always been a part of the ship, an extension of her captain, and Commodore James Norrington had never once associated his nemesis with a nameless lover he had had as a young man. _Or rather, who had had me_ , he thinks, remembering the absolute way in which he had surrendered himself into the man’s hands – _into Jack Sparrow’s hands_ – that night at the docks in Jamaica, the first night of his new posting at the Caribbean. 

_Fare thee well, Jim_. He smiles into the darkness as he remembers more and more. _Jim_. That was why the name had rung such a familiar bell. No one else had called him that since. Until Jack had again, in his dreams, and on the rowboat after their escape from the _Prince_. 

His body sways as the _Prince_ makes a turn, and he sees the _Pearl_ and the _Dauntless_ ahead, two dark outlines under the brilliantly starred night sky, the moon almost full in the sky. It is long past midnight, and there is no one close by. He has been left on his knees, bound to the mast, although the whipped prisoner has been moved below deck, and James can only hope that the man has received some medical care. 

He raises his face to the sky as the first drops of rain begin to fall, letting the rain refresh him, trickle into his parched mouth. The figurehead of the _Pearl_ swims into his view again, and he smiles as Jack’s ship slides neatly into place beside the _Prince_ , so close that their sides are almost touching. 

Jack leans down from the helm. ‘Nice evening, innit?’

‘Beautiful,’ James calls back. 

Jack comes closer, kneeling at the bulwark, his hands clasping the rails. He rests his chin on his crossed forearms. ‘Thought you could use some company.’

‘Your company?’ James sighs in mock-resignation. ‘Given my present position, I suppose it’s obvious I’ll take what I can get.’

Jack smiles faintly. ‘Always the disdainful Commodore, I see.’

‘Always,’ James agrees absently, his eyes on the strong, slender hands as they grip the _Pearl_ ’s railing tightly, belying her captain’s lightness of tone. Those hands in the darkness, on his body, in that alley, so long ago. Suddenly, he knows he does not want to be the only one to recollect that evening. A cloud covers the moon for a moment, plunging them into near-darkness.

‘Jack?’

‘Right here, James.’ 

The moon drifts out into view again, flooding the ocean with silvery light as the light rain continues to fall. ‘Do you have a miniature of her?’ He tilts his head towards the statue adorning the _Pearl_ ’s bow. ‘In jade?’

Jack’s expression is so comically astounded that James has to laugh. 

‘How could you possibly know that?’

‘Jamaica, seventeen years ago. You met a naval lieutenant on the docks, and had a rather interesting encounter with him in an alley.’

‘James, how could you possibly – unless – no, it can’t be.’

‘It was, Jack.’

‘No, James.’ Jack frowns, shaking his head. ‘He was… he was just a boy.’

‘I was a boy once, Jack.’

Jack stares at James as the rain begins to fall a little harder, drenching them both. 

‘I’m sorry,’ James says quietly, not having to raise his voice because Jack is so close, so close that he can see the shutters come down over those dark eyes, even in the rain. ‘I probably shouldn’t have said anything.’

Jack says nothing for a long time, and James stays quiet as well, suddenly conscious of the pain in his knees, shivering a little as his soaked coat clings to his body, getting wetter by the minute. ‘You’d better go in,’ he says at last. 

Jack gets to his feet abruptly, turning his back to him. 

And then he turns around again, and before James’s mind can even begin to form a thought, he leaps from the bow of the _Pearl_ with a feline grace and lands at James’s feet, rolling over as his feet hit the deck.

‘Jack!’ James hisses, finding his voice as Jack drops to his knees in front of him. ‘What do you think you’re – ’ 

‘You _idiot_. How could you think of not telling me?’ 

Before James can respond, Jack’s hands slip down over James’s thighs, gripping under them and pulling James’s knees on to his own thighs to allow him to take the strain off them. 

James groans in relief as Jack’s hands massage the circulation back into his thighs, his knees melting with the blessed reprieve of being pillowed on Jack’s flesh after hours of being forced to rest against the harsh wooden deck of the ship. He leans his head back against the mast, hands tugging at their chains, gritting his teeth. 

Jack’s eyes fall on the locked manacles, and he tugs at the chains angrily. ‘If only these were ropes,’ he groans. 

‘Jack, you must go,’ James says reluctantly. 

‘This wasn’t here before,’ Jack says distractedly, looking at the burn left on James’s chest by Zima’s pipe. 

‘Jack, _go_ ,’ James says urgently as there is a shout from the stern of the ship, followed by the sound of running feet. 

For an instant, Jack leans close. ‘Tomorrow,’ he breathes into James’s ear, and leaps to the railing, remaining poised there for an instant before disappearing into the night. 

Tyler skids to a stop in front of James, panting. ‘Who was that?’ he demands harshly.

James doesn’t respond. Tyler’s boot connects viciously with his ribs.

 

\--

 

Jack scowls at the ceiling above his bed, trying to remember a night almost two decades in the past. A drunken night to boot. He scowls again and turns over. 

A harbour, a jetty, a lone sailor sitting at the edge, his legs dangling over, ankles crossed. A bottle of rum in his own hand, his own voice saying, ‘You look like you could use some company.’ The sailor – the _Navy man_ – turning to him in the darkness, shrugging. ‘Given my present position, I suppose it’s obvious I’ll take what I can get.’ 

_Incorrigible boy. I can’t believe he used the same line on me twice. Twice, for the love of all that’s unholy. No one’s ever used the same line on Jack Sparrow twice._

He had remained on the deck of the _Pearl_ until they had taken James below again, and he had hoped that it was merely to chain him up in a cell, and not to beat him to a bloody pulp for encouraging nocturnal visits by unknown callers who clearly had no business being on board the _Prince_. 

_Tomorrow, James,_ he swears silently. _Tomorrow, I’ll have you out of there. And that’s a promise._

 

\--

 

_‘Given my present position, I suppose it’s obvious I’ll take what I can get.’_

_Jack grins and sits down, unable to make out the boy’s features in the darkness, but able to tell from the voice that he is very young. But tall enough to be a man, taller than him; he can make that out, even as they sit side by side and his hand reaches out for the Navy man’s, running his thumb lightly over the drawn knuckles. The boy shivers slightly, but not as if he finds the touch unpleasant, and Jack continues the light caress as he hands the bottle over. ‘Here, mate. You look like you could use this, too.’_

_‘Thanks.’ The boy raises the bottle to his lips and drinks deeply. Impressive. Jack moves to sit cross-legged next to him, facing his profile. The boy hands the bottle back, almost guiltily. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says quickly, looking around. ‘I suppose we should find – ’_

_‘Take your time, love,’ Jack says, taking a swig and pushing the bottle back into his hands. ‘I’m not in any hurry.’ The boy accepts it, nodding, and Jack can sense his surprise even in the darkness. The beam from a lighthouse sweeps over their heads, and Jack catches a glimpse of the powdered wig. ‘I would, however, be much obliged if you’d remove that hideous creature that’s roosting on top of your fine head.’_

_The boy laughs, a rich, almost musical sound, and tugs off his wig to reveal cropped hair that falls to just below his ears. It seems dark brown, like his own shoulder-length hair, but Jack cannot be sure in the near-darkness. He lifts a hand to rub at the back of the boy’s neck, and feels him start to relax slowly. ‘That’s it, love,’ he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the ear facing him. The other man sighs softly and leans back into his hand. Then he turns his face, and Jack covers his mouth with his own, keeping up the steady rubbing of his neck. The mouth under his is warm and firm, tasting of rum and salt. A sailor’s mouth._

_He abandons the warm, sweet lips to drag his mouth over the boy’s cheek and nibble on his earlobe, and is caught by surprise as a perceptive hand wanders over his thigh to rest at the front of his breeches, fingers stroking his hardness lightly over the cloth. He bites down harder on his ear, and groans as the hand cups his crotch and squeezes gently, moving up and down as it maintains its pressure._

_Before his rum-soaked senses have the chance to register what is happening, he finds himself on his back, the stranger’s fingers tugging at the laces on his breeches, freeing his cock, and hands grasp his hips firmly, holding him in place as the Navy man’s mouth travels the length of his erection, tasting, nibbling. He groans and plunges his fingers into the thick, soft hair, lifting his head and trying to look at his lover’s face, but unable to make out anything but the outline of the dark head between his thighs. He rubs his fingertips along the other man’s scalp, throwing his head back and gazing at the stars above as that warm mouth continues to work its magic on him, making him murmur and moan and plead in a way that Captain Jack Sparrow has never pleaded before, strong hands holding his hips resolutely in place as he attempts to thrust himself up into that tormenting mouth. Then, mercifully, his lover plunges his head down and engulfs him in his mouth, and Jack finds his eyes tightly shut, a roaring in his ears that has nothing to do with the sound of the waves breaking against the pier below them._

_A fishing boat floats past, too close, sounds of drunken merriment floating up from it, and Jack tugs his lover’s head up by the hair, gasping. ‘For the love of god, stop.’ He nods in understanding and allows Jack to scramble to his feet. He grabs the boy’s hand and pulls him away from the pier, weaving through the stacked cargo on the docks until he sees a narrow alley in front of them. He pulls the Navy man in behind him and spins him around, pushing him up against the wall, thrusting a hand into the front of his breeches, biting on his ear, hearing a stifled gasp as his teeth leave marks on his flesh, his hand clamping down on his young lover's nose and mouth as he strokes him roughly under his breeches. The boy whimpers under his palm and Jack lets his hand slip a little to allow him to breathe through his nose._

_He releases the boy’s mouth and slows his rough stroking, runs a remorseful tongue over the bite mark on the tender earlobe. The young officer rests his hands on Jack’s hips, his breathing ragged, and Jack leans in closer to take his mouth, allowing his tongue to trace the salty-sweet lips over and over before he slides his tongue in, exploring the ridges of the other man’s teeth, the hollow beneath his tongue, running the tip of his tongue back and forth over the small ridges on the roof of his mouth and making him moan with pleasure. His fingers tug at the laces on his partner's breeches, pulling them free._

_He slides his hands under the young lieutenant’s shirt to run his fingers along his bare back, letting his hands trail lower as he nuzzles his lover’s throat, his chest, his stomach, finally coming to rest on his knees in front of him, rubbing his nose into the naval, flicking a tongue into it and trailing it into the dark curly hair below. He rubs his cheek slowly into the hard length against it, his hands cupping the gentle curves of the young man’s arse, kneading and squeezing slowly as he finally allows his tongue to flick at the head of his cock, sliding around it and eliciting the loveliest moan from somewhere above him. He sucks the entire length into his mouth slowly, sliding his head back again, then repeating the motion, as his hands insistently knead the firm flesh under them. The young man doesn’t thrust, doesn’t push, his hands stroking Jack’s hair, his breathing under desperate control, and Jack loves the small, helpless sounds he is drawing out from the sailor’s throat. His mouth continues its delicious work as he slides a finger between the boy’s cheeks, rubbing up and down, pausing to linger at the puckered entrance, tracing small circles over it, and his partner groans softly and pushes himself back against the exploring finger._

_Jack gives the delectable cock in his mouth a last caress with his tongue before withdrawing his mouth. ‘Turn around, love,’ he murmurs, a hand on the boy’s hip, guiding him around until he is facing the wall. He resumes stroking his lover with one hand, kissing and nibbling at the firm mounds of flesh in front of him. The beam of light from behind them sweeps into the alley again, and he parts the cheeks and kisses his way down the cleft of the young man’s arse, running the tip of his tongue over his rim, pressing his lips to it. His partner lets out a helpless half-moan, half-sob as he stiffens his tongue and slides the tip of it inside him, his lips caressing the rim as his tongue moves inside him. He withdraws his mouth slowly, rubbing his face along his lover’s back as he straightens._

_‘Are you sure this is what you want, lad?’ he murmurs into the back of his neck._

_‘Yes. Yes, please.’_

_His hand slips into his coat pocket to retrieve his little bottle of oil, and he pulls out the stopper with his teeth and coats his fingers liberally before slipping his hand down again, letting his fingers massage the valley that his mouth has just explored, his fingertips seeking out the small, vulnerable entrance again, and his lover makes a guttural sound and arches his neck as he slides a single finger unhurriedly inside him._

_Jack wraps his other arm around the young man’s waist and holds him close as his finger begins a gentle in-and-out motion, sliding in a little deeper each time. Keeping one hand braced against the wall, the lieutenant slips his other hand into Jack’s hair as he turns his face to Jack’s, their lips meeting, and Jack commandeers his mouth thoroughly as his finger continues twisting and stroking inside his lover’s body. He withdraws his tongue briefly from his lover’s mouth to ask, ‘More, love?’_

_‘Please,’ the young man whispers, his breath catching, and Jack delves into his mouth again as he adds a second finger, increasing the rhythm and making the other man moan into his mouth. His lover’s hand descends in the darkness to curl around Jack’s erection and strokes him firmly, taking Jack by surprise, and he moans his approval and arches into the touch. Before the stroking hand can make him spend himself, he removes his fingers from his lover’s body and slides his cock into the crease between his arse cheeks, both of them gasping as Jack’s heated flesh rubs against his partner’s. Jack holds the boy steady with his hands on his hips, rubbing himself up and down slowly, tormentingly._

_‘Please,’ his lover moans, grinding his hips back against Jack’s._

_‘Aye?’ Jack asks, the head of his cock against the slippery opening, pausing for an instant, wanting again to be sure that this is what the boy wants._

_‘Aye, sir,’ he says, almost pleading now, his hands clutching at the wall in front of him._

_‘Captain, love,’ Jack murmurs into his ear, kissing the nape of his neck as he lets himself slide in just a little bit, holding himself back with all his resolve._

_‘Aye, Captain,’ the young man gasps, the side of his face pressed hard against the wall, and as the luminous ray of light sweeps over them again Jack sees silky strands of dark brown hair falling over tightly closed eyes, and then the light is gone and he is sliding in deeper, meeting resistance at the tight muscle. ‘Push out, love. Push out,’ he murmurs gently._

_‘Oh,’ the young man says in surprise as he obeys, and Jack chuckles affectionately against his back before he is swallowed entirely by the tight, silky heat of his lover’s body. He stays still inside him, pressing tiny kisses to the back of his lover’s neck, his fingers loosening the cravat to lick at the soft skin below._

_‘Please,’ the young man moans again, his hips pushing back, and Jack groans his assent and begins nudging his hips back and forth, his oil-slicked hand finding the young sailor’s cock and stroking it hard as he speeds up. His other hand delves into his partner’s hair as he pulls the dark head back against his shoulder as he begins thrusting in earnest, his hand pumping in time with his hips. And then they are both lost, floating outside of time, and nothing matters but the feel of their bodies convulsing together, and Jack slathers his tongue over the young man’s throat, moaning encouragement into his ear with words that he cannot hear himself as his lover’s body arches into his. He feels warm liquid splash on to his clutching fingers, the tight heat contracting around his shaft, triggering his own peak as he spills his release into his lover’s body. Then he is holding his lover tight against him, keeping them both on their feet as they fall back down to earth, their breaths mingling in the cool night air._


	13. Chapter 13

Zima frowns. ‘I suppose you’re here to tell me why we have docked at a port yet again.’

Jack touches a hand to his chin to twirl around his braided beard. ‘Morant Bay is our last stop before we cross the fine Atlantic, mate. I suggest you get all the supplies you need, for we won’t be catching sight of land for a long time.’

Zima’s frown deepens. ‘And what, if I may ask, is our eventual destination?’

‘You mayn’t ask, mate,’ Jack flashes him a mirthless grin. ‘Just follow my fine ships, and you’ll get there just fine.’

‘I don’t suppose you boarded my ship just to inform me of this.’

‘You catch on quick, Zima.’

Zima sighs heavily. ‘I suppose this is yet another hare-brained attempt to commandeer my prisoner.’

‘It would take more than the likes of you and me to commandeer the Commodore, mate. But yes, it is my intention to take him off your fine ship here.’

‘And just how exactly do you hope to realise that intention?’ Zima asked, sounding amused.

‘By reminding you that there is a spell to be worked when we reach said destination, mate. And unless you’re a conjuror by moonlit profession, I very much doubt if you or I could pull off the spell. Savvy?’

Zima scowls. ‘I take it you know someone who can… pull off the spell, then.’

‘Aye. But to convince said spell-worker, I’ll have to take the good Commodore along to meet the conjuror in question.’

‘Why can’t you bring this magician of yours on board?’

‘No conjuror worth their salt is going to walk willingly on board your ship, mate. Nor mine,’ he adds. ‘Have to make sure it’s worth her while, y’see.’

Zima stares at him for a long moment, and Jack can see the wheels working in his head.

‘Very well,’ he says finally. ‘But Tyler and five of my crew will go with you.’ He speaks to Tyler without taking his eyes away from Jack’s face. ‘Tyler, you will accompany Sparrow and Norrington. If anything should go amiss, you have my permission to slice all their limbs off.’ He tosses a bunch of keys in Tyler’s direction, which are neatly intercepted by Jack’s hand as they fly through the air. 

Zima scowls at his first mate. ‘Keep both eyes on him, Tyler. If something should indeed go amiss, those two won’t be the only ones with missing limbs.’

 

\--

 

Jack saunters down the narrow passage to the small cell at the end of the brig as Tyler stands at the end of the passage and glares. His hand is already inserting the key in the lock as he stops in front of the bars of James’s prison, where he has been chained with his arms above his head, his head sagging between his shoulders. Jack glances back at Tyler, fighting the urge to retrace his steps and knock his teeth out of his grinning mouth. 

The need to free James is far stronger, and in another moment he is kneeling beside the prisoner, hands cupping his face and lifting it gently. ‘James, can you hear me?’ 

James groans, his eyes still closed. Jack reaches above James’s back to unlock the manacles, and James falls forward against him. ‘Easy, Commodore,’ he murmurs, hands reaching to massage James’s shoulders and upper arms, not daring to touch the scraped wrists. 

‘Do a man a kind deed and kill me now,’ James groans, deliberately theatrical as his hands rest on Jack’s waist, lifting his head and meeting Jack’s eyes to allow him to see that he feels better than he looks. Jack laughs softly, his hands continuing to work the life back into James’s arms and shoulders. ‘Not your time yet, mate.’

‘How did you get in here, anyway?’ James murmurs as he closes his eyes and leans against Jack’s chest, letting Jack’s fingers work on his exhausted body. 

‘I’ll tell you everything in a moment, but first I want to get you out of this hole as quick as possible. Can you walk?’

‘You underestimate the forbearance of a Commodore of the Royal Navy, Captain Sparrow,’ James growls in his sternest voice and pulls himself to his feet, his hands on Jack’s shoulders for support. 

Jack grins up at him as he unlocks the manacles around his ankles, giving his legs a quick rubdown. James smiles back wearily, and Jack straightens up against him and nudges his shoulder underneath James’s arm, his other arm sliding around his waist to hold him steady. ‘Shall we, James?’ 

 

\--

 

Jack walks slowly, flanked by two of Zima’s men, James on the other side of the man next to him. Morant Bay is a larger, more well-maintained town than Port Royal, having seen fewer confrontations between pirates and the Naval forces, and Jack leads the way determinedly into a small alley, stopping in front of an unassuming, two-storied house. He fishes the keys out of his pocket, unlocks the door and pulls James inside, resolutely shutting the door in Tyler’s face and locking it behind him.

‘Where are we?’ James asks as he leans back against the wall in the small corridor. 

Jack leads him into the kitchen, depositing him safely in a scrubbed wooden chair in front of the wooden table. ‘One of my safe houses. Perfect stopover before an Atlantic crossing, Morant Bay.’ He uncorks a bottle of rum and sets it down in front of James. ‘Not your preferred drink, but the best I can do for you at this time.’

James swallows determinedly. ‘I don’t think rum has ever tasted better.’ 

Jack chuckles and looks around, pleased to see that the house has been tidied up and the larder stocked in accordance with his instructions. He smiles to himself, surprised at the need to make a good impression.

‘What are you smiling about?’ James asks, watching him as he breaks eggs into a sizzling pan. Jack says nothing, but gives James a quick grin as he begins slicing a loaf of bread. 

A few minutes later, he a steaming plate down in front of James. ‘Eat.’ James obeys unhesitatingly as Jack busies himself with setting a pot of water to boil before perching at the end of the table, helping himself to the bottle of rum as James eats. 

‘This,’ James says feelingly through a mouthful of cheese, looking up for a moment, ‘has got to be the best meal I’ve ever had.’ 

Jack stays quiet as he fortifies himself with more rum and an exceedingly gratifying image of Zima roasting over a slow fire while having his testicles chewed on by a baby Kraken. 

‘Now,’ he says after James has eaten, ‘let’s take stock of your injuries,’ he says, pouring some hot water into a basin and retrieving fresh bandages from the cabinet. 

James groans as he allows Jack to peel off his coat. ‘I was afraid you’d say that.’ He leans forward onto the table, turning his face so that his cheek is against the wood, allowing Jack to lean over him and examine his back. 

‘Not as bad as I expected,’ Jack assures him, as he snips off the old bandage with a pair of scissors and examines the bullet wound. He cleans the drying wound gently with the help of a cloth and the hot water before dousing it with ointment. He wordlessly guides James to sit up again, and kneels in front of the chair to dab salve on the cut on his forehead and the burn on his chest. He daubs ointment on James’s scraped wrists and ankles as well, glad to see that the skin is no longer broken from the barbed wire, and that scabs have formed protectively over his skin. 

He looks up as he finishes, and finds James’s eyes on him. ‘Thanks, Jack,’ he says. 

 

\--

 

A couple of minutes later James is soaking in the long wooden tub in the bathroom, groaning with pleasure as the warm water soothes his stiff limbs. Jack’s fingers massage his scalp and lather his hair with a fragrant liquid, his long hair trailing over James’s shoulders as he leans over him. 

‘Why are you doing this, Jack?’ he asks quietly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back into Jack’s hands. 

‘Why’m I doing what?’ Jack murmurs absently, pouring water over James’s hair, rinsing the soap from it. 

‘This. Taking care of me.’

Jack moves in front of James and watches him soap his legs. ‘You asking me that seriously?’ he says.

‘Yes.’

Jack shrugs. ‘You need it, James. You’ve been through more than any human body can be expected to take.’

‘Yes, but – ’ James breaks off and sighs, standing up and stepping out of the tub reluctantly, already missing the soothing warmth of the water as a draft of air raises goosebumps on his skin. 

Jack moves quickly behind him to wrap a towel around him. ‘Don’t think too much about it. We’ll talk when you’ve rested, all right?’

James doesn’t respond until Jack leads him to the bedroom and pushes him back against the pillows, pulling the covers securely around him. ‘All right, Jack. I just – I just don’t want you to feel that any of this is your fault.’

Jack frowns slightly, smoothing the damp hair away from James’s forehead. ‘I’m not doing this out of any sense of obligation, James. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you.’ 

It’s a statement more than a question, and James nods. ‘Yes. I would.’

‘There you go, then.’ Jack lifts James’s hand to his mouth to kiss his palm before tucking his arm under the covers. ‘Sleep. I’ll be back soon.’

‘Be careful,’ James murmurs, not questioning him about where he is going, and Jack leaves the room and closing the door noiselessly behind him.

 

\--

 

Jack locks the door behind him as Tyler looks up from where he is sprawled on the steps. ‘Still here?’ he says in mock surprise. ‘Hope you and your boys aren’t too bored.’

‘Where’s the prisoner?’ Tyler grunts.

‘The Commodore is indisposed as far as you and your pretty friends are concerned, savvy?’

Tyler grunts, and Jack knows that he is only too happy to sun himself there as long as he is sure that James is under lock and key. Jack springs down the steps, and one of Zima’s men steps forward from where is leaning against the wall, as if to follow him. ‘Stay, mate,’ Jack says invitingly. ‘I won’t be long, and there’s a nice little pub down the street where you might find some nourishment while you wait.’ He gives them a conspiratorial wink. ‘Your captain’ll never know.’ 

He finds what he is looking for easily enough: a smoky room on the first floor of a busy tavern, flanked with beaded curtains, a luminous crystal ball on a silk-covered table in the centre of the little room. His eyes roam over the veiled figure of the fortune-teller as he leans his palms on the table in front of her. ‘Reduced to cheap tricks now, are we?’

Tia Dalma throws her veil back and stares at him defiantly. ‘It’s called earning a living, Jack Sparrow.’ 

Jack grins and perches at the edge of the table, fingers stroking the sleek, cool surface of the crystal ball. He peers down into it. ‘What if I told you I see a long journey and untold adventures in your future?’

She leans forward, eyes gleaming. ‘Tell me more, Sparrow.’

‘I don’t think I need to, darling. You aren’t exactly surprised to see me.’

She nods. ‘Barbossa’s spell.’

‘Aye. Can you do it?’

She snorts. ‘Of course.’

‘What does it involve?’

‘You unlock the treasure by using the heart of the person who is the key to it.’

‘And how exactly do you do that?’

‘By cutting out the heart, of course,’ she says impatiently, as if he’s asked an obvious question.

Jack sighs. ‘I thought it might be something like that. Harming him is not an option, lass.’

‘Who are you calling a lass? And why is cutting out the heart not an option, Sparrow? Barbossa said the key was none other than your nemesis, the Navy Commodore that’s been after your blood all this time.’

Jack looks down at the swirling clouds inside the crystal ball, and she laughs softly. ‘I see.’

‘What do you see, Tia?’

‘The truth, Jack Sparrow, as always.’

Jack looks up at her. ‘Is there no other way?’

She looks at him curiously. ‘If you care about him that much, why do you need to perform the spell at all?’

‘Because unless this matter is put to rest, Barbossa and Zima and every other pirate who knows about the spell is going to be after James’s blood. And he won’t hide, Tia.’

She nods. ‘Well, Jack Sparrow, it’s a challenge, and there’s nothing Tia Dalma likes more. I can try to find another way, but I’ll need to see him. But tell me, why should I help you?’

‘In return for, as I said, untold adventures and a long respite from your little establishment here.’ Jack leans forward. ‘Do we have an accord?’

She grins. ‘We have an accord, Captain Sparrow.’

 

\--

 

Jack watches with narrowed eyes as Tia pours a small amount of a dark liquid onto James’s upturned hand, blowing softly on it as it settles into the lines on his palm. James is sitting at the table in the kitchen again, this time dressed in one of his own white linen shirts and his Navy breeches, provided by Groves on the _Dauntless_ that morning during Jack’s visit to apprise James’s officers of their little excursion into Morant Bay.

Tia starts to move James’s palm over the flame of the candle on the table, and Jack’s hand is over James’s wrist in an instant, holding his hand away from the flame. ‘Here, lass, the plan is to keep him unscathed. Or didn’t I mention that?’ 

She smiles snidely. ‘It’ll only take a second, Sparrow.’

‘It’s all right, Jack,’ James says, moving his hand over the flame himself, his face impassive as the fire licks at his skin.

‘That’ll do,’ Tia says after a few seconds. She presses James’s hand to a strip of waxed paper, and when she lifts it again, there is an intricate imprint of James’s palm on the paper. He looks down in surprise at his hand and sees that there is no trace there of the cool, waxy liquid. 

Jack clicks his tongue but says nothing as Tia pricks one of James’s fingers with a needle, letting several drops of blood drip on to a small, folder-up piece of cloth. The she folds the paper away carefully. ‘I’m set, Sparrow. Give me a day to close up my shop and get the ingredients and books I need. Will you be ready to sail tomorrow evening?’ 

Jack nods. ‘We’ll see you on the _Pearl_.’

‘Thank you, Tia.’ James holds out his hand to her, and she takes it in surprise as he shakes it with a firm grip. ‘You’re welcome, Commodore.’

‘James,’ he says, smiling.

She nods. ‘Until tomorrow then, James.’ 

As they hear the door closing, Jack turns to James in surprise. ‘You certainly have a way with women, lad.’

James laughs, settling himself back in his chair as Jack pours out rum for both of them. ‘Feeling better, James?’

James clinks his mug against Jack’s, taking a long sip before he responds. ‘Much better, Jack. Thanks to you.’

Jack smiles. ‘Do ye know what day it is?’

‘No. I’ve completely lost track of the days.’

‘It’s the last night of the century, James.’

‘It’s the 31st already?’ James asks in surprise. ‘Since you mention it,’ he goes on, lifting his mug to his lips again, ‘strictly, the century will only end on December 31st, 1700, not 1699.’

Jack chuckles warmly. ‘I knew you’d say that. But everyone else is celebrating like they haven’t for a hundred years, so just give in, James.’ He lets his hand slip over James’s, giving it a quick squeeze. 

Later that night, they stand together by the window, where the starred darkness of the night is embellished by thousands of exploding fireworks, lighting up the world with a cascade of brilliance. 

‘Happy new year, James.’ 

James turns to Jack, returning his smile. ‘Happy new year, Jack.’ 

‘You’re not going back to Zima,’ Jack says quietly. ‘I’ll find a way to keep you with me. And that’s a promise, James.’


	14. Chapter 14

Jack wakes to find sunlight on his face. He stumbles downstairs, buttoning up his shirt, to find James at the stove and his kitchen full of pirates. 

‘Morning, Captain Sparrow,’ James says cheerfully over his shoulder. ‘Hungry?’

‘What are they doing here?’ Jack says bemusedly, wondering if he is still asleep. He glares around at Zima’s men, who continue to eat unconcernedly. 

‘Just invited them in for a spot of breakfast,’ James says in the same merry tone. 

Jack grunts sleepily and splashes water on his face from the sink, and James winks at him as he hands him a plate of pancakes. 

Jack waits until the pirates have filed out of his house before slamming the door behind them and returning to the kitchen. ‘What was that all about, if you don’t mind me asking?’

James raises an eyebrow. ‘Try the sarcasm after you try my pancakes, Captain.’   
Jack grunts again and takes a bite. 

‘Good?’ 

‘Heavenly,’ he admits as James pours him a mug of tea. 

‘I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to be a little civil to them, Jack,’ James says reasonably as he takes a sip of his tea. 

‘Hm. Keep your enemies close, that sort of thing?’ Jack says.

‘Something like that.’ James smiles. 

‘Those men would tear you to pieces at one word from their captain, James.’

James shrugs. ‘I know. Doesn’t hurt to try to work on their loyalties, though, does it?’

Jack looks at the earnest face. _If anyone can change their loyalties, I’ll bet you can._

James sits down across the table from him. ‘I think you owe me a few explanations, Jack.’

Jack nods, taking a sip of his tea to avoid looking at James. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Everything. From the start. About the deal you made with Barbossa.’

‘A few months ago, Barbossa found out about the spell that could unlock a pirate’s treasure. He had my ship, I wanted her back, and so I agreed to… bring you to him when the time was right.’

‘How did I come into all this?’ James frowns.

‘The pirate who hid the treasure in the first place was your great-grandfather, lad.’

‘I have a _pirate_ ’s blood in me?’ James’s eyes are wide with surprise. Jack nods. ‘What was his name?’

‘James Clarke.’

‘Ah,’ James says, obviously recognising the name.

‘Don’t be disappointed, Commodore. There’s worse things you could have running through your veins than a pirate’s blood.’ He finishes off the last of his pancake. ‘Anything you can remember about him would help.’

‘I never knew much about him, except that my grandmother told me he was always off travelling. No one even found out how or when he died.’ He looks at Jack. ‘What’s the spell about?’

‘Well, ordinarily it would involve cutting out the heart of the person who’s the key.’

‘My heart, then.’

‘Tia’s working on circumventing that particular difficulty.’

‘When did you join forces with Zima?’

‘I didn’t. He just… assumed I’d help him, and I didn’t correct him.’

‘Because you wanted the _Pearl_ back.’

‘Because I wanted the _Pearl_ back.’

‘Well, now you have her.’

‘So?’

‘So, why don’t you take her and leave?’

‘He’d never give you up until that treasure’s found, James.’

James shrugs. ‘That’s not really your problem, is it?’

‘You’re not asking me to leave you with him, lad?’

James leans forward, clasping his hands together. ‘No, Jack. I’m asking why you won’t leave me with him, because I know you won’t.’

Jack closes his eyes briefly. ‘When did this turn into an interrogation? I’m not in your fort, Commodore.’

‘Is it just the treasure?’

‘Think that if you must.’

James takes a quick breath, nods.

Jack sighs. ‘James, let’s not do this to ourselves.’

James looks up at him. ‘I’m just… bewildered at everything, Jack.’

‘I know. We’ll just have to help each other get through this. Trust me?’

James laughs briefly. ‘God help me, but I believe I do.’

‘You didn’t seem to, a moment ago.’

‘I’m sorry, Jack. Everything about this confounded situation is so damnably difficult to understand.’

‘Do you think it’s any easier for me?’

James scrutinises him with his earnest gaze. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he says lightly. ‘Consort with one pirate to get your ship back, hand the Navy bastard over to another pirate, get your ship back in the process,’ he says. ‘Seems simple enough to me.’

‘I didn’t hand you over to Zima, James. And I wasn’t planning on handing you over to Barbossa, either.’

‘I know, Jack. I was just teasing you.’

Jack groans theatrically. ‘I don’t think my poor heart can take much more of your teasing, James.’

James laughs, getting up and retrieving a box of cigars from a shelf. He lights one for Jack and another for himself. ‘Courtesy of Tyler and his men,’ he grins.

Jack shakes his head, grinning back. ‘You could charm the broomstick from under a witch, lad.’

‘Speaking of witchery, aren’t we supposed to meet Tia at the docks at sundown?’

‘Yes.’

‘I think we’re in for stormy weather.’

‘Aye. Stormy weather, indeed.’

‘Our ships can take it, Jack.’

Jack turns his head away. ‘You’re just getting better, James. Another spell on Zima’s ship and I – I don’t know what it’ll do to you.’

‘I don’t care about that, Jack. He can’t break me.’

‘He can try, and he’ll keep trying. The longer you resist him, the harder he’ll try.’

 

\--

 

Zima looks long and hard at the four of them in the rain. Tia looks small and frail between James and Jack, her arms full of bottles and books. A feeble, elderly, bent-over woman, whom Tia has insisted on bringing along as her assistant, stands behind them. ‘Do you mind?’ Tia snaps at Zima. ‘My supplies are getting wet.’

Zima looks at Jack. ‘This wasn’t part of the deal, Sparrow. I want my prisoner back on my ship.’

‘And our good witch here needs him on my ship to work out her spell, Zima. Do you want to get your hands on that treasure, or not?’

‘Very well, Sparrow. But you will stay on the _Prince_ in his stead until the spell is worked out.’

Jack faces his glare evenly. ‘Sounds like a fair exchange to me, Zima.’

‘It is not a fair exchange, Captain Sparrow,’ James says. ‘Captain Zima, we don’t need to play these games, do we? I’m not likely to disappear off a ship in the middle of the Atlantic, and we have no more stops until we reach Scotland.’ He looks back quickly over his shoulder at Tia, a silent exchange passing between them like a shadow in the night. She steps behind James, her fingers working on a thread of beads, her lips moving silently.

‘Yes,’ Zima mutters, his eyes glazing over. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

‘Excellent. We’d best be off, then.’ James gestures quickly to his companions, and the four of them are on board the _Pearl_ before Zima can say another word.

‘You were brilliant, Tia,’ James turns to her, grinning, as Jack looks wordlessly from one to the other. She laughs. ‘’Twas you who came up with the idea, James.’

‘You put the whammy on Zima?’ Jack chuckles, finding his voice at last.

James laughs. ‘So to speak. I discussed it with Tia when you and Tyler were busy glaring daggers at each other.’

‘Cheeky brat,’ Jack mutters. 

James flashes him a mischievous grin and breaks away from them to lean over the railing of the _Pearl_. ‘All well, Groves?’

‘Just waiting for the word, Commodore,’ Groves calls back from the deck of the _Dauntless_.

‘I think we can be off at first light.’

‘Aye, sir. You’ll be on board the _Dauntless_ , Commodore?’

‘I will, Theo. For now.’

Groves smiles, visibly relieved.

‘I thought he was called Ted,’ Jack says, leaning beside James on the railing of the _Pearl_ and watching as Groves hurries off 

James turns to him and smiles. ‘I’ve always called him Theo.’

‘Aha. Do I smell something intriguing in the state of Port Royal?’

James laughs. ‘You have a dirty mind, Jack.’ He turns his head to look sideways at Jack, smiling. ‘He’s a good man, one of my best officers. Nothing more than that.’

‘Hm.’ Jack looks ahead at the ocean, open, inviting, regardless of what lies at the end.

James looks around. ‘Where’s Tia? And her friend?’

‘Anamaria’s fixing them up with a cabin.’

James leans forward on his elbows. ‘I’m scared to even begin thinking of everything that could go wrong, Jack.’

‘Don’t be, James,’ Jack says firmly, sounding far more confident than he feels. ‘Nothing’s going to go wrong. And by the time we reach, we’ll figure out a way to work the spell safely.’

‘To what end, Jack? Letting Zima get away with something dangerous and powerful?’

‘He’s not getting away, James. Not after what he did to you.’

 

\--

 

They eat a leisurely dinner on the deck with the crew and Tia, who regales everyone with stories about the Kraken and other magical creatures she has encountered. James and Jack sit with their backs against the main mast, sharing a bottle of rum. ‘How’s your back?’ Jack asks quietly. 

‘It’s fine, Jack. Just a little stiff.’

‘You look a bit pensive. Thought your wound might be bothering you.’

James smiles at him. ‘Is there nothing I can hide from you, Jack?’

Jack mock-frowns. ‘Now why would you be wanting to hide anything from old Jack?’

James laughs. ‘I didn’t mean – oh, you know I didn’t. I was just wondering what happened to Barbossa.’

Jack shrugs. ‘Scurvy bugger took a boat and escaped when Zima attacked the _Pearl_. He likes to run away so he can come back to run away another day.’

James laughs again. ‘I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him, though. He seems to want that treasure almost as much as Zima does.’

‘Them and every other pirate in the region, love.’

‘Except Captain Jack Sparrow?’

‘Got no use for invincibility and eternal life, myself.’

‘What _do_ you want, Jack?’

‘Me? Freedom. That’s what the _Pearl_ is to me, savvy? Freedom, and an ocean to sail in. Isn’t anything else that Jack Sparrow needs to keep himself happy. Well,’ he adds with a sidelong glance at James, ‘haven’t needed anything else so far.’

James smiles slightly. ‘Does it make it easier, knowing what you want?’

‘Make what easier?’

‘This. Living an unsettled life. The uncertainties.’

Jack leans his head back against the mast. ‘The way I see it, it’s the present that matters. Right now, I’m content to sit on the deck of my ship next to you. Tomorrow I’ll have other things to worry about, and I’ll face those in the light of day.’

‘Don’t worry on my account, Jack.’

Jack sighs. ‘I can’t help it, Commodore. You seem to have gotten under my skin somewhat.’

James smiles. ‘No more than you’ve gotten under mine, believe me.’

Jack dares to slip a hand under James’s shirt from behind, and rubs the small of his back. ‘I like the sound of that, Commodore.’

 

\--

 

‘You want to do _what_?’ Jack asks blankly, staring at Tia, who looks small and demure and positively unwitchlike in the morning sunlight streaming through into the captain’s cabin.

‘It’ll only be temporary, Sparrow. I need answers from James Clarke, and the only way to do that is to channel his spirit.’

‘Can’t you channel him into an urn or something?’

‘Urns can’t speak, Jack Sparrow. It has to be a corporeal body.’

‘Why James’s corporeal body?’

She clicks her tongue impatiently. ‘Because they share a blood link, you daft pirate.’

Jack scowls and looks at James, who is leaning against the edge of Jack’s desk, listening to their bickering with some amusement. ‘What do you think, James?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t suppose it could hurt to try.’

Tia smiles. ‘Sceptical Commodore. You don’t think it’s even possible, do you?’

‘I honestly don’t know, Tia. But I’m willing to keep an open mind.’

She nods. ‘That’s good enough to begin with. You might want to sit down for this, James.’

‘What, you want to do it now?’ Jack’s scowl deepens.

‘No time like the present, Sparrow. I can’t proceed with the spell unless I know a few things about it. There must be a caveat somewhere.’

‘I agree,’ James adds. ‘It seems strange that Clarke would use a spell that would kill one of his surviving heirs.’

‘Exactly.’ Tia smiles smugly.

‘Unless he was a deranged pirate,’ Jack growls. ‘Which, by all accounts, he was.’

Tia looks at him thoughtfully. ‘Aye, you may be right. We’d best restrain James for this.’

‘Now, look here just a moment – ’

‘She’s right, Jack,’ James cuts in. ‘If Tia manages to channel his spirit, you may find yourself dealing with a very disgruntled pirate.’ He looks at Tia. ‘Will I have any control over him?’

She looks thoughtful. ‘No, I don’t think you will. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, you won’t be here at all.’

‘Where will he be, then?’ Jack asks, disliking the whole idea more and more.

Tia shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Folk don’t remember when they come back. Hurry up and get James restrained. I’ll be back in a minute with my supplies.’ 

Jack watches her leave, frowning deeply. ‘You sure about this, James?’

‘No, but we need answers, Jack. I’d rather be sure about this spell when we arrive in Scotland.’

Jack sighs. ‘I don’t like it, lad. I don’t like it one bit.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be over soon,’ James says reassuringly. He removes his sword and pistol and hands them to Jack. ‘Here, you’d better hold on to these.’ He sits down in Jack’s chair. ‘You’d better tie me up now, Jack.’

Jack smiles faintly. ‘Never thought I’d hear you say that, and it wouldn’t excite me.’

James flashes him a grin as he shrugs off his coat. ‘Now that’s more like the Jack I know.’

Without a word, Jack lashes James’s ankles to the legs of the chair with rope, and James touches a fingertip to the beaded braid brushing against his knee. 

Jack looks up at him, resting a hand briefly against his thigh. ‘I hate this, James. I’m hating every moment of it already. Who knows what it’s going to be like if Tia succeeds.’

‘I’ll be fine, Jack.’

Jack sighs, and begins binding James’s arms to the arms of the chair. ‘I’ll be right here.’ 

He finishes his task and goes to his desk, pulling out a small, engraved wooden box. He returns to James, clutching something tiny, and James smiles to see the long-remembered jade figurine. 

Jack ties the thread around his wrist, the small angel cool against the inside of James’s wrist. ‘For luck, James.’


	15. Chapter 15

‘What the _fuck_ are you doing to him?’ Jack snarls, taking a step toward James and Tia. 

Tia is holding James’s head over a bowl of cloudy purple smoke, making him gasp and cough, his eyes watering. She clicks her tongue impatiently. ‘Stop interfering with me spell, Sparrow. It’ll be over in a minute.’ She turns her attention back to James. ‘Breathe in, James. Just a little more.’

James turns his face away from the bowl for a moment. ‘It’s all right, Jack,’ he gasps. ‘I’m all right.’ He ducks his head back into the bowl, and Jack holds himself back, glaring daggers into Tia’s willowy little back as she holds the back of James’s neck, coaxing him to inhale more of her vile concoction. 

James’s head drops suddenly, and his body goes limp in its restraints. Tia smiles in satisfaction and pushes the bowl away.

‘James?’ Jack frowns.

‘He can’t hear you, Sparrow.’

‘Like hell he can’t.’ Jack reaches to shake James awake, but Tia grabs his arm. ‘No, Jack. Now we wait.’

‘Wait for _what_? You’re supposed to be channelling some spirit, not knocking him out.’

‘I’ve already channelled him, Jack. We just have to wait for him to wake up, now.’

‘Channelled him how? Aren’t you supposed to summon him, or something?’

She laughs, a strangely melodic cackle that is not in the least bit reassuring to Jack’s frayed nerves. ‘You’ve been reading too many cheap thrillers, Sparrow. I had his blood and the imprint of his hand, remember? ‘Twasn’t hard to whip up what I believe would be the essence of Captain James Clarke.’

Before Jack can respond, James groans softly and lifts his head. ‘Bootstrap?’ he murmurs.

‘James? You all right?’ Jack asks, and Tia throws out her arm again to stop him from moving closer to James.

‘Captain Clarke?’ Tia asks.

James grimaces, shaking his head as if to clear it. ‘Where am I?’

Tia throws Jack a triumphant glance. ‘You’re on board the _Black Pearl_ , and this is her captain, Jack Sparrow.’

James pulls against his bonds. ‘I demand that you untie me at once, you blackguard,’ he snarls in a tone that Jack is certain James Norrington would never use. Neither would he have that look on his face – a hardened, enraged glare that most people would quail under. 

‘Easy, Captain Clarke,’ Jack says in what he hopes is a soothing tone. ‘We just need you to answer a few questions for us, and then you can head right back along to where you came from. Savvy?’

A slow, calculating, malevolent grin spreads over James’s handsome features, and Jack winces. ‘What makes you think I would want to go back there, _Captain_?’

 

\--

 

Jack scowls at the horizon, the unlit cigar clamped between his teeth again. Tia comes to stand beside him, and he turns the scowl on her instead. ‘Well?’

She runs her hands through her hair in frustration. ‘The man is impossible, Sparrow.’

‘So send him away and bring James back. It’s been three hours and we haven’t made any progress.’

‘Patience, Sparrow. James wouldn’t want us to give up so easily, would he now?’

‘I don’t know what he’d want, since he isn’t here,’ Jack says shortly. Tia sighs and rubs the back of her neck.

He looks sideways at her. ‘Not a single helpful word from him, I take it?’

‘Well, at least we know we have the right person. Keeps on harping about going home to Scotland.’

‘I’ll give him bloody home.’ Jack strides back to his cabin, kicking the door open. 

‘Now listen here, mate,’ he begins, and stops as James’s guileless face looks back at him, confounding him.

James – _no, damn it, Clarke_ – tilts his head inquiringly. ‘You were saying, Captain?’ he asks mildly.

‘Look, mate, just tell us about that spell and we can all be on our merry way.’

‘I fail to understand how you could possibly know about it in the first place.’

‘We told you, Clarke. You’re dead, savvy? You probably died more than half a century ago. That’s your great-grandson’s body you’re in at the moment, and he’ll be wanting it back any time now.’

‘Prove it.’

‘What?’ Jack blinks.

‘Prove it, Captain Sparrow. How do I know this isn’t just some trick to rob me of my fortune?’

‘How would you like me to prove it, Clarke?’

‘To begin with, show me a mirror.’

Jack sighs and unties Clarke’s hands, putting them in manacles before releasing his ankles and leading him into his bedchamber. ‘There. You happy now?’ 

‘Hm. He does look remarkably like me. Remarkably. Except that I had the good breeding to get a decent haircut every now and then.’ He shakes his head violently to allow the soft strands of hair to settle on his shoulders, watching his reflection appraisingly. ‘What is he, a pirate?’

‘Never you mind who he is,’ Jack snaps, losing his patience. 

‘My dear captain, I think I have a right to know.’ Clarke sits down at the edge of Jack’s bed and smiles beguilingly up at him. 

Jack stares at him ‘He’s a commodore in the Royal Navy, and he hunts pirates for a living.’

‘Ah. I see. So he’s your prisoner?’

‘I – yes. That’s right.’

Clarke frowns mildly. ‘Have you been torturing him? Seems like this body’s felt a great deal of pain in the recent past.’

‘No,’ Jack snaps. ‘Of course I haven’t been torturing him.’

Clarke raises James’s eyebrows. ‘What kind of feeble pirate captain doesn’t torture his prisoners?’

‘The feeble kind, apparently. Look, are you going to tell me about that spell, or not?’

‘Certainly. What would you like to know?’

‘Is there another way to work it? Without killing your heir?’

‘Of course.’ Again, James’s smile shines enchantingly at him, and Jack gropes for a chair. 

‘Er – would you be telling me how to do it, then?’

‘Now why would I want to do that, Sparrow? As I believe I’ve already mentioned, I have no desire whatsoever to be returned to where I came from.’

‘That would be hell, presumably?’

‘It could just as well have been, Sparrow.’

‘That’s Captain Sparrow to you, mate.’

‘Tell me something, _Captain_ Sparrow. Surely it won’t make a pennyworth of difference to you if it were I rather than my great-grandson who unlocked my treasure for you?’

‘Are you daft?’ Jack says without thinking. 

‘Surely you would be more wise to ally yourself with a fellow pirate captain, rather than a pirate hunter?’

Jack stares at him, trying to give the impression that he is considering the offer while wracking his brains to come up with a reasonable response. ‘Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll think about it, mate.’

‘Now, now, Captain. Do credit me with a little more intelligence. Besides, it’s more than a little obvious to me that you won’t accept my offer at all.’

‘Really? How’s that?’

‘My dear boy, it’s obvious that you have a soft corner for that great-grandson of mine.’

Jack stares at him, speechless. ‘It’s not just minds that have memories, you know,’ Clarke goes on softly, eyes on Jack’s face. ‘I feel how this body responds to your nearness.’

Jack forces a laugh. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Clarke.’

‘Don’t I?’ Clarke smiles and drops off the bed to kneel in front of Jack’s chair, his hands on Jack’s thighs. He leans into Jack’s body, his nose against Jack’s open shirt.

‘Okay, that’s it.’ Jack grabs the back of Clarke’s collar and hauls him back into the outer cabin, yelling for Tia.

‘What?’ she snaps, striding inside.

‘Send him back. Send him back this instant. He’s of no use to us.’

‘Fine, keep your breeches on.’ She retrieves her bowl and does a quick incantation with some powders and drops of liquid from various bottles, and a radiant blue cloud fills the bowl this time. Jack throws Clarke into the chair that James had been tied to, and forces his head into the bowl.

More coughing and choking, and Clarke slumps forward, unconscious. Jack steps away from him and takes a swig from a bottle of rum, his hands shaking. 

‘What did he say to unnerve you so?’ Tia asks curiously.

‘Nothing. I’ll just rest easy once I know he’s gone back to the pits of hell.’

She studies him curiously for a moment, and then turns to look at the unconscious man. ‘Shouldn’t be long now.’

Jack watches the manacled prisoner closely, waiting. A minute later, James opens his eyes and lifts his head. Jack’s heart sinks as he looks into the man’s eyes, knowing even before he speaks that the spell has not worked. ‘Still me, Captain.’ Clarke smiles brilliantly at him again. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

Tia turns to Jack, eyes wide with bewilderment. ‘I – I don’t understand. It’s never failed before.’

‘Tia Dalma, for the love of god, set this right.’

She reaches for the bowl. ‘I’ll try again.’

‘Don’t bother, my dear girl,’ Clarke says with some amusement. ‘As a far greater sorcerer than someone of your limited means, I can assure you that little magic trick of yours is not going to work.’

Jack frowns at Tia. ‘Can he be resisting the spell in some way?’

‘Impossible,’ she says, managing to snort and look helpless at the same time.

‘Okay, listen, you smug son of a bastard,’ Jack snarls into Clarke’s face, his hands on the arms of the chair. ‘Tell me how to undo this or I’m going to make you walk the plank, no matter who you look like.’

Clarke laughs softly. ‘And lose this body? I think not, Jack.’

 

\--

 

‘How did this happen?’ Groves moans, throwing a glance at the man in Jack’s cabin, who is happily chewing on a drumstick. Clarke raises his glass of wine cheerfully, and Groves’s scowl matches Jack’s own. 

‘Ask her,’ Jack snaps, glowering at Tia.

‘Don’t you look at me like that, Jack Sparrow. James wanted to do this as much as I did. He knew the risks, and so did you.’

‘No, love,’ Jack says, leaning into her menacingly and making her scramble back against the railing. ‘He didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to bring him back, did he?’ 

‘But where _is_ the Commodore?’ Groves asks helplessly, looking from Jack to Tia.

‘In hell, probably.’

‘No, Jack. I’m sure of that,’ Tia says firmly. ‘If he’d been in any other-worldly dimension, the spell would have brought him back.’

‘Where, then? At world’s end?’

She shakes her head slowly. ‘No. Not without a body.’

‘Well, Clarke could’ve been there, right? _With_ his body?’

‘He wouldn’t have survived there for so long, Sparrow. You still age, at world’s end.’

‘Surely you must have some thoughts about where he could be, then,’ Groves says, his tone beseeching.

‘Bootstrap,’ Jack says suddenly, remembering. ‘When he woke up the first time, that was the first thing he said.’

Tia frowns. ‘What about it?’

‘You don’t think he could have been referring to Bill Turner?’

‘Even if he was, how does that help us? The man’s dead, Sparrow.’

‘Not exactly, since he’s bound to Davy Jones’s servitude for a hundred years.’

‘Are you saying Commodore Norrington could be on board the _Flying _Dutchman__?’ Groves pales.

‘That would explain why the spell didn’t work,’ Tia says, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘If Clarke was on board the _Dutchman_ , we can’t reverse the spell because he wasn’t dead.’

‘He never died.’ Jack exhales slowly. ‘James mentioned that no one in his family knew what had happened to Clarke. They just assumed he’d died at some point, but he never did. He sold his soul to Jones.’

Tia shakes her head. ‘I hate to tell you this, Jack, but I still don’t know how to get James back into his body.’

‘We’ll figure it out. Let’s find James first.’

‘How? The _Dutchman_ could be anywhere.’

Two minutes later Jack sits at his desk, his compass in his hands. _James_. He opens the lid, and the needle points unwaveringly at Clarke. He scowls and shuts the lid. ‘Get him out of my sight.’

Gibbs looks uneasily at the man. ‘What do you want us to do with him, Cap’n?’

‘I don’t know. Anything. Throw him in the brig.’

‘Aye, Cap’n.’

Clarke smiles enigmatically at him as he is led away, and Jack tries his best to dismiss him from his mind. 

Anamaria comes in, looking disgruntled. ‘Jack, the _Prince_ has sidled up alongside us. Seems Captain Zima requests the pleasure of your company.’

Jack groans. ‘Lovely. That’s all I needed.’


	16. Chapter 16

‘What do you want, Zima?’ 

‘Why, Captain Sparrow, I do believe I have the right to ask how that depraved sorceress of yours is faring with her spell.’

‘Well, actually, you don’t. But since you asked anyway, I can tell you she’s working on it.’ 

‘And how about our brave young Commodore? How does he fare?’

‘Actually, he’s in the brig. He was getting on my nerves.’

Zima laughs. ‘Finally, you treat him like our common enemy should be treated.’

Jack shrugs. ‘I have things to do, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be getting back to my ship now.’ Zima says nothing, watching him with narrowed eyes as he leaves.

 

\--

 

Jack stares down at the manacled prisoner in his brig. Clarke looks up at him from where he is sitting on a bench. ‘Why, Jack, how nice of you to come visit.’

‘Is it a philosopher’s stone? Your treasure?’

‘An astute guess, Jack.’

‘Why didn’t you use it? Why bind yourself to Davy Jones?’

Clarke’s eyes widen with surprise. ‘How did you know?’

‘You said Bootstrap’s name, and it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together.’

Clarke laughs. ‘You don’t miss anything, do you, Jack?’ he says admiringly. Jack clutches the bars tightly, willing himself to remember that this is not James in front of him, but it’s not easy to hear the familiar laugh, and the way his name sounds when spoken by James’s voice.

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ he says, forcing himself to keep his tone indifferent.

Clarke comes up against the bars on the other side, resting his chained hands lightly on top of Jack’s. His thumbs gently caress the ridges of Jack’s knuckles, and Jack closes his eyes involuntarily. 

‘I had no choice, Jack,’ the velvet voice says as Jack feels a warm breath on his ear, much too close. ‘I had the black spot already. It was all I could do to secure the stone in time before I had to take my place aboard the _Dutchman_.’ 

Jack nods and tries to step back, but James’s hands tighten over his. ‘You don’t want the stone for yourself, do you?’

Jack shakes his head. ‘I couldn’t care less about your little trinket, Clarke. Now let go of me.’ In response, Clarke squeezes Jack’s fingers. 

Jack clutches the bars tighter. ‘What do you want from me, Clarke?’

‘Don’t keep me locked up here, Jack. I can be of use to you. We can be of use to each other.’

‘Really? How’s that?’

‘Help me get my stone back, and I’ll do everything to help you get Norrington back.’

Jack laughs mirthlessly. ‘And why would you want to do that?’

‘Free me from Jones’s servitude, and I’ll have no more use for my great-grandson’s body.’

‘No deal, Clarke. Bring him back first, and we’ll think about it. James is a more compassionate man than I am, and I’m sure he’ll want what’s best for his great-grandfather. Even if you’re a vile scoundrel.’

‘I promise you, Jack, I no more want that boy on that ship than you do. But my hands are tied, quite apart from being chained. I can do nothing to switch us back, unless he is in my physical proximity.’

‘You’ll be glad to hear we’ll be encountering the _Dutchman_ any time, then.’ He smiles with satisfaction as Clarke lets go of his hands and steps back in dismay. 

‘The _Dutchman_? Here?’

‘Any time now, mate.’

Clarke composes himself. ‘I’m the only one who can free your friend from my body, so I have nothing to fear. You do realise that.’

‘My friend?’ Jack stares at him in frank surprise. ‘Do you feel nothing for your own blood?’

Clarke shrugs. ‘I don’t know the boy, Jack. My interests come first. I’m being honest with you, pirate to pirate. Give me a parley, and we might all yet get out of this unscathed.’

 

\--

 

‘Jack,’ Anamaria cries, almost crashing into him as he makes his way back up to the deck. ‘It’s Davy Jones!’ 

‘Is he attacking?’

‘Not yet. He’s just following us.’

On the deck, Jack sees that Zima’s ship is little ahead of the _Pearl_ , but the _Dauntless_ is close to Jack’s ship, Gillette at the helm. ‘All right, Groves?’ he calls to the lieutenant, on the deck beside his crew. 

Groves comes over to the railing. ‘So far, Captain. We’re preparing the guns.’ Jack runs his eyes over the hundred-gun ship and nods. ‘If your guns can’t hold him back, lad, nothing will. But hold your fire as long as you can, if it comes to that. James is aboard the _Dutchman_.’

‘Are you sure, Captain?’

Jack nods. ‘Let’s try to make sure it doesn’t come to a battle.’ Nevertheless, he tells Anamaria and Gibbs to get the _Pearl_ ’s own guns ready, and takes the helm and nudges the _Pearl_ alongside the _Prince_. 

Zima throws him an annoyed look from the deck. ‘Well, Sparrow. Any suggestions on what we do now?’

‘Sit tight, Zima. I’m going to talk to Jones.’

Zima raises his eyebrows. ‘Talk? I recommend we attack him with everything we have, before he blows us all out of the ocean.’

Jack grits his teeth. ‘He _is_ the ocean, Zima. It’s unlikely we’d be able to bring him down, even with an entire fleet.’

Zima eyes him appraisingly. ‘Very well. But I insist that you take two of my representatives along. There will be no creation of alliances with Davy Jones, Sparrow, and I will see to that.’

‘Fine,’ Jack shrugs. He lets the _Pearl_ fall back next to the _Dauntless_ again. ‘I heard, Captain,’ Groves calls. ‘I’m going with you.’ 

‘So am I,’ Anamaria says resolutely from behind him. Jack looks from Groves to Anamaria, frowning. ‘Now look here, both of you. I’d planned to go alone.’

Groves folds his arms over his chest, looking every bit as determined as Anamaria. ‘The Commodore wouldn’t have let you go alone, Captain, and neither will I.’ 

Jack nods resignedly, secretly glad of the company, since Jones gives him the chills like no else ever has. ‘Right. Tell Gillette to be prepared for battle, in case we don’t come back. Ana, stay here. I’ll need you to take charge of the _Pearl_ if necessary.’

She bites her lip, torn, but finally nods. ‘All right, Jack. But you come back, you hear?’

Five minutes later he and Groves are on a rowboat, followed closely by a boat with Tyler and Karcher, both boats flying white flags as they approach the _Dutchman_. 

As he steps on to the deck of Jones’s ship, Jack sees most of the crew gathered there, watching them silently. James and Bootstrap are standing together beside the railing, and Jack raises a hand to Bootstrap, avoiding looking at James. Clarke’s body, as he’d said, is almost identical to James’s, except for the length of his hair, which is much shorter than James’s. 

‘Been a long time, mate.’ Bootstrap nods in acknowledgement, but says nothing. Jack looks around at the rest of the silent crew. ‘Well – are you going to be taking us to your captain, then?’

‘What is it you want, Jack Sparrow?’ Jones drawls with some amusement, emerging from his cabin.

Jack turns to face him, Groves at his shoulder, Zima’s men a little behind them. ‘I should ask you that, Davy Jones, since you’re the one who seems to be following us.’

‘What can I say, Sparrow? You’re where the action is.’ He smiles indulgently, tentacles waving gently around his face. ‘Do not tell me you sailed into these waters with no knowledge that I would be here, Sparrow, for that would be too blatant a lie, even for you.’

Jack faces him determinedly. ‘You’re right, Jones. I want something from you. One of your crew.’

‘And what have you got to offer me in exchange?’ Jones asks in amusement. ‘A soul for a soul, Sparrow. You know that.’

Jack stares at him, his brain racing. ‘Is there nothing else I can offer you, Jones?’

‘Nothing else in your possession will interest me, Sparrow. Tell me, which of my fine crew members interests you so much?’ Jack nods in James’s direction. ‘Him.’

‘Ah. James Clarke. And what would you want with him?’

‘With all due respect, Captain Jones, that’s between him and me.’

The mild flicker of interest disappears from Jones’s eyes. ‘Very well. I care not for your petty affairs. Give me a soul in exchange, and you can have your man.’

Before Jack can respond, Groves steps forward. ‘You can have me, Captain Jones.’

James pushes through to the front of the crew. ‘No,’ he says at the same time that Jack does.

Jones looks around at them, grinning. ‘How very touching. Make up your mind quickly, Sparrow, before I change mine.’

‘I’ll stay,’ another voice says quietly, and Karcher steps up to stand beside Jack. He looks quickly at James, his eyes widening a little in recognition. 

Jack looks at him in amazement. ‘Why, Karcher?’

Karcher swallows and looks Jones in the eye. ‘I want to be on your crew, Captain Jones. I do not fear death. It would be an honour.’ 

Jack has a sudden flash of understanding, remember Karcher being whipped on the deck of the _Prince_. _I’d probably want to serve Jones rather than Zima, if it came to that._

But James, fool that he is, apparently finds the thought of another man giving up his soul for him intolerable. ‘I cannot let you do that,’ he says firmly.

‘Enough, it is decided,’ Jones says impatiently. ‘Clarke, you are freed from my servitude.’ 

As Karcher kneels in front of Jones to declare his allegiance, Jones turns lazily to Jack. ‘There is much that you have withheld from me, Jack Sparrow. In case you think you have gotten the better of Davy Jones, perhaps you need a little reminder of how powerless you really are.’

Before Jack can respond, there are screams and the sounds of guns firing from one of the ships ahead of them, and Jack whips around to see enormous tentacles enfolding the _Dauntless_. ‘No!’ he cries in horror, as James leaps over the railing of the _Dutchman_ and disappears overboard. ‘Jones, call it off!’

Davy Jones merely laughs as Groves follows suit after James. The _Dutchman_ lurches sickeningly, preparing to submerge, and Jack flings a parting curse at Jones as he dives overboard as well, followed closely by Tyler. The _Dutchman_ slides silently into the water and disappears from view, overturning the two small rowboats in its wake.

Jack starts swimming for the _Pearl_ as soon as he hits the water. ‘Fire, Ana!’ he screams from the water. ‘For pity’s sake, fire!’ 

The _Pearl_ responds instantly, spitting fire at the Kraken, but her cannonballs could be little pellets for all the effect that they have on the giant tentacles that have the _Dauntless_ in their overpowering embrace. Jack grabs the rigging on the side of the _Pearl_ and scrambles on board his ship to man one of the cannons himself, blowing a tentacle in half, but there are three more in its place, ravaging the _Dauntless_ , before he can even blink. 

He keeps firing, a cold hand clutching his heart, and there is an appalling crack as the spine of the _Dauntless_ breaks under the Kraken’s death-grip, and the magnificent ship crumbles like a twig in the grasp of the monster. The wreck of the ship is pulled underneath the surface of the ocean, and the beast disappears after its master, clutching its spoils.


	17. Chapter 17

The _Pearl_ is already lowering boats for the survivors in the water, and Jack moves to the railing to help the first few shaking crewmembers of the _Dauntless_ to come aboard. ‘Get them below, Anamaria, and get them warm,’ he says, his eyes on the water, where James, Groves and Gillette are helping those in the water to get into the lifeboats. 

Some of the injured Navy men have to be tended to on the deck, and Jack and Gibbs begin bandaging wounds as Tia moves among the crew of the _Dauntless_ with a steaming goblet, making them take sips. Most of the _Pearl_ ’s crew is silent as they help, their shocked faces expressing sympathy for the crew of the _Dauntless_ that overwhelms their mutual animosity, and even Mr Cotton’s parrot is quiet for once.

James is the last to come on board, immediately joining Jack and the others to tend to the wounded, dressing injuries with steady hands. He does not look at anyone except the wounded, does not say a word except in comfort, and Jack sees how bloodless his face is, how tightly his jaw is clenched when he is not speaking quietly to the men he is tending to. Tia helps Gibbs to take the Navy men below deck, and Groves and Gillette follow when everyone else has been taken care of. 

It is only when his two lieutenants have disappeared behind the others that James sags against a cannon on the deck, his knees buckling, and Jack goes to stand beside him, his hand moving to grip James’s shoulder. James turns wordlessly to him and buries his face in Jack’s shirt, his hands clutching at Jack’s legs, and Jack sinks to his knees beside James, unable to offer him any comfort other than to hold him tightly.

 

\--

 

The next two days are sheer torture for Jack, since James remains below deck with his men, and the only ‘James’ he sees is the irrepressible Clarke, who is no longer confined to the brig. 

On the third morning, as he stands moodily at the helm, a familiar shadow falls on the deck beside him. Jack groans. ‘What do you want?’

‘Just wondering if I could have a turn,’ Clarke grins. 

‘Not on your life,’ Jack grunts, refusing to look at him.

Clarke leans around Jack to place his hands on top of his. Jack sighs, letting his hands drop and Clarke’s take over, and Clarke keeps his arms on either side of Jack as he begins steering the ship. ‘How are you doing, then?’ he murmurs, nudging Jack’s head aside and resting his chin on Jack’s shoulder. 

Jack closes his eyes and clenches his teeth at the feel of James… this man who looks like James, smells like him, talks like him. Clarke chuckles softly in his ear. ‘I asked you a question, Jack.’

‘M’fine.’

‘Are you really? I’ve seen how listless you’ve been looking since the wreck of the _Dauntless_.’

‘The death of a ship is never a happy occasion, Clarke.’

‘Especially not with you having to witness it, and being unable to stop it. Am I right?’

Jack stiffens, drawing in a breath. He turns his head to Clarke’s, their faces very close. ‘What do you want from me, Clarke?’

‘Oh, you know. I’ve been thinking. I’m now a free man. A free pirate with all the ocean to sail in, and once I get my stone, I’ll be the most powerful pirate in the world. There’s nothing I’d like better than to ally myself with you, Jack. Imagine what we could do together, you and I…. we could own the waters everywhere.’ 

His eyes move down to Jack’s mouth before travelling up to meet Jack’s dark gaze again, and Jack turns his head away to face the ocean again. ‘What about James?’ he asks carefully.

Clarke laughs softly in his ear. ‘What about him, Jack? That lad is desperate to get back to his command, if you ask me. You don’t need him anymore, now that you have me to work the spell. I’d suggest dropping him and his men off at the nearest port. That’s what his heart seeks the most, Jack. To go back to commanding his own Naval fleet. Not to remain on board a pirate ship, lad. Don’t fool yourself that there’s any way that Commodore Norrington is happy on board the _Pearl_.’

Jack says nothing, but Clarke’s words dig deep into him, and he wishes he could do something, anything, to make him stop talking. At the same time, a small voice in his head insists that what Clarke is saying makes perfect sense. To send James away would be to ensure that he remains safe, and that Clarke is made the object of Zima’s pursuit. He smiles grimly at the idea. ‘I’ll consider it, Clarke, but you must perform the spell to switch your bodies back again.’

‘Why, of course,’ Clarke says, sounding delighted. Jack nods briefly at him, and slips out of his embrace to return to his cabin. 

He has barely entered when Anamaria comes in behind him, and leans against the doorjamb. ‘What was that all about?’ she asks, her eyebrows raised.

‘What do you mean, Ana?’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean, Jack Sparrow. You’re letting that man get to you, and no mistake.’

‘Have you ever known me to let anyone get to me, Ana?’ Jack uncorks a bottle of rum and takes a long swig, propping his feet up on his desk. 

She crosses her arms over her chest. ‘No one but the Commodore, apparently.’

‘Well, remind me not to make that mistake again.’ Jack takes another warming gulp of rum and leans back in his chair, his eyes closed.

‘Give him time, Jack. He’s just lost his ship. You of all people should know what that feels like.’

‘I do know, Anamaria, and I thank you for the reminder,’ Jack says angrily, letting his feet drop to the floor again. ‘How _ever_ , it’s more than that. He belongs in Port Royal with his crew, and that’s where I’ll see him be, thank you very much.’

‘And you’ll replace him with Clarke? That man gives me the creeps, Jack.’

Jack shakes his head. ‘It’s what’s best for James, Anamaria.’

‘Maybe you should ask him that before you make any decisions, Jack.’

 

\--

 

He finds James sitting beside a cannon on the lower gun deck of the _Pearl_ , the port open and the breeze ruffling his hair, his arms folded over the cannon and his chin resting on top of them. 

‘If you wanted fresh air, James, there’s a whole deck above.’

James says nothing, keeping his back to Jack. Jack goes to stand beside him. ‘What’s on your mind, James?’

‘Did you want something?’ James says carefully, keeping his eyes on the ocean.

Jack draws in his breath sharply, clenching his hands to keep them from descending on James’s shoulders and shaking him up thoroughly. ‘Clarke came to me with… a proposition.’ 

When James doesn’t respond, he goes on quickly, ‘He’ll do the spell to switch your bodies back, James. You can be free of this accursed spell and the treasure or stone or whatever it may be.’

‘I see. I must admit the thought hadn’t occurred to me.’

Jack nods. ‘Me either, lad. But it makes sense. You and your men can get back to Port Royal, resume your lives.’

James looks up at Jack and nods. ‘I think that would be best.’

Jack closes his eyes briefly at the words, opens them to look at the ocean again, and finally to look back down at James. Clarke’s eyes are almost the exact green as James’s, perhaps a shade or two lighter.

‘Very well, James. If that’s what you think is best.’

‘I think so, Jack. It’s what’s best for the crew. They deserve to get back home to the comfort of their families.’

‘We’d best get on with it, then.’

James nods and stands. ‘Let me have a word with Groves and Gillette, and I’ll be right up.’ He stops at the door and turns around. ‘I never – I never thanked you for your hospitality, Jack. Your crew’s support has meant a lot to my men over the last few days.’

‘Are you daft, James?’ Jack stares at him, astonished. ‘You think you need to thank me for that?’

James smiles faintly. ‘I need to thank you for a great many things, Jack.’ He is gone before Jack can come up with a response.

 

\--

 

‘That’s the plan, then,’ James winds up, looking across the table at his lieutenants. ‘We disembark in Scotland, and proceed to London. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding passage back home.’

‘And you as well, sir?’ Gillette says, exchanging a look with Groves.

James shakes his head. ‘Between us, gentlemen, I must admit that I plan to submit my resignation from the Navy once we reach London.’

Gillette opens his mouth, and shuts it again. Groves gives James a long, searching, look. ‘What will you do, sir?’

James shrugs. ‘Anything that doesn’t involve ships.’

Groves nods, his eyes full of understanding and empathy. ‘We will never have another ship like the _Dauntless_ , Commodore, nor a commander like you.’

‘It was an honour, Commodore,’ Gillette says quietly. 

James stands up, taking a moment before he can find his voice again. ‘Theo, Andy, thank you. The honour to serve beside you was mine.’ He shakes hands with both of them, nods, and leaves the crew’s quarters to return to the captain’s cabin for the first time since the loss of the _Dauntless_.

 

\--

 

‘Well?’ Clarke stands in the doorway, his arms crossed.

‘Well what?’ Jack says without lifting his head from his desk, feeling bone-weary.

‘What did he say?’

Jack sighs and takes a long swig of rum before he responds. ‘We all seem to be agreed that what you proposed is indeed the best course of choice for all concerned.’

‘Good.’ Clarke smiles and comes to lean against the desk next to Jack. His hand descends over Jack’s, caressing his fingers lightly. ‘You won’t regret your decision, Jack.’

‘It was his decision, not mine. And I’ll thank you to keep your hands off me.’ Jack tries to pull his hand away, but Clarke tightens his fingers over Jack’s and raises Jack’s hand to his lips, letting his mouth trail along Jack’s wrist, his eyes holding Jack’s. 

‘Ah, James,’ Clarke says calmly, looking up without moving his mouth away from Jack’s hand. Jack looks to the door to find James standing there, speechless. He yanks his hand away from Clarke’s, but he knows from James’s expression that the damage has been done.

‘Clarke,’ Jack says finally, finding his voice. ‘Would you be so good as to fetch Tia? I think she should be here for this.’

Clarke raises an eyebrow as if about to object to being asked to run errands, but then nods. ‘Of course, Jack,’ he says smoothly, and gives James a pleasant smile before he leaves.

Jack drinks more rum to fortify himself, waiting for the outburst, but it doesn’t come. He finally sneaks a look at James and finds him sitting in the chair across the table from him, looking out at the sea through the open door.

It’s James who speaks first, and when he does, his words throw Jack completely. ‘You really are having a hard time fending him off, aren’t you?’ he says, smiling slightly. 

‘James—’

‘Be careful of him, Jack. He’s not me. He’s not what he seems to be.’

Jack sighs, pushing his bottle across the table to James. ‘I know, lad. He’s not you. That much I know.’

‘I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him and Zima when the treasure’s found, Jack. You won’t be safe. Why don’t you just let them go ahead together? Clarke knows where it is, and Zima doesn’t need you now, any more than he needs me.’

Jack nods. ‘I considered that, James. But can you imagine what something that powerful could be like, in the hands of two notorious pirates? I can’t allow that, James. They’ll make the waters unsafe for pirate, merchant and Navy man alike.’

‘What do you intend to do, then?’

‘Keep it away from them. At any cost.’ Jack gazes unblinkingly at James, who holds his gaze steadily. 

‘Then I’m staying with you, Jack. You’ll need all the help you can get.’

‘No, James. I won’t have you endangered. You’re going back home, and no argument about it.’

James shakes his head. ‘I have no home to go back to, Jack. Port Royal… it has nothing for me now.’

Jack’s heart skips a beat, and he cannot look away from James’s eyes. ‘You mean it? You want to stay on board the _Pearl_?’

‘Of course, Jack. If you’ll have me. Until this is sorted out.’

‘And after that?’

‘After that… I don’t know, Jack. I can’t think that far.’ He stares out at the ocean again. ‘I can barely think at all.’

Jack opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it again in frustration as Clarke comes in again, followed by Tia. She looks first at James. ‘I’m sorry, James. Davy Jones can be a thoughtlessly cruel man,’ she says. James acknowledges her condolences with a nod.

Clarke rubs his hands together. ‘Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?’ He holds out a hand to James. ‘Come, James. Kneel beside me.’ 

James ignores the proffered hand and kneels on the floor across from Clarke, who looks amused. He pulls out a small bottle from his coat pocket, and removes the little stopper. He tilts it quickly into his mouth, and then offers it to James. ‘Your turn. Three drops, no more or less.’ James and Jack both look at Tia, who shrugs. James takes the bottle and does as asked.

‘Now,’ Clarke says softly, and clasps James’s hands in both of his. ‘Just clear your mind, James.’ He begins to speak softly in Latin. Then there is a sudden crackle between their joined hands, and both James and Clarke are thrown backwards, away from each other.

Jack stares from one to the other. ‘James?’ he says, looking at the man in James’s body, who pulls himself to his feet and smiles. ‘It’s all right, Jack. It worked. I’m back.’

‘No, it didn’t.’ The man in Clarke’s body, still on the floor, groans and pulls himself into a sitting position against the wall. ‘What are you playing at, Clarke?’

James looks at him in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon? It worked, just like you said it would.’

Clarke shakes his head, looking at Jack. ‘No. Jack, it didn’t work. I’m still in Clarke’s body.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Jack growls. ‘Tia?’

‘I don’t know, Jack,’ she says helplessly. ‘I’ve never heard that incantation before. But as far as I can tell, the spell worked the way it should have.’

‘You’re lying, then,’ Jack says, taking a step toward the man on the floor. Clarke looks up at him. ‘No, Jack. I’m telling you the truth. That’s still Clarke inside my body.’

Jack looks back at the man in James’s body. ‘Tell me something only James would know.’ The man smiles slightly. ‘What would you like to know, Jack? Jamaica, seventeen years ago?’

Jack breathes out a sigh of relief, but his relief is short-lived as Clarke pulls himself to his feet as well. ‘That wasn’t a switching spell,’ he says slowly, looking at James. ‘You got into my mind, accessed my memories, to convince Jack that you’re me.’

The man in James’s body shakes his head, looking thoroughly confused. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Clarke. Did you have a change of heart?’ He takes a step forward, anger in his voice now. ‘Or do you just intend to play with Jack a little more?’

‘Okay, that’s enough. Both of you,’ Jack says sharply, stepping between them. ‘I need to speak to each of you alone.’ He takes out his pistol and tosses it to Tia. ‘Keep this aimed at him, and shoot if he moves,’ he says, inclining his head toward the man in Clarke’s body, and she nods and points the gun at him with a steady hand. 

‘You, get in here.’ Jack grabs James by the arm and pulls him into the inner chamber, shutting the door behind them. He points to the bed. ‘Sit.’ James sits, running a hand through his hair. ‘It’s good to be back in my body, Jack. I swear, I have no idea what he thinks he’s doing.’

Jack stands back against the door, feeling as if his brain is on the verge of exploding. ‘Tell me something else about James.’

James looks up at him, his eyes weary. ‘Don’t play his game, Jack. Can’t you tell it’s me?’

‘No.’ Jack keeps his voice resolute. ‘If you really are James, you’d know why I need proof.’

‘What proof can I give you, Jack? He’s still got you eating out of his hand. He’s convinced you I’m Clarke, and that I’ve stolen his memories. Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?’

‘I’m _not_ convinced,’ Jack snaps, angry with himself, angry with Clarke for his tricks, angry with James for not being able to give him a sign. ‘Which is why I’m asking, which is why I need evidence.’

‘I’ll try. Just before we did the spell, you and I were talking about me staying on board the _Pearl_. So I could help you keep the stone from Zima and Clarke.’

‘How did you know about that night, seventeen years ago?’

James gives him a small smile. ‘I recognised the figurehead of the _Pearl_. From the miniature that you wore on your wrist that night.’

Jack nods. ‘All right. His turn.’

‘Jack – ’

‘No more talking, mate.’ Jack opens the door, and James goes out silently. Clarke is still in the same position, his back against the wall. Jack looks at him and inclines his head toward the bedchamber, and Clarke obediently goes in. Tia points the pistol at James without being asked, and Jack nods at her before following Clarke inside and shutting the door again.

Clarke leans against the wall and sighs. ‘This is worse than being back to square one, isn’t it?’

Jack shrugs. ‘Let me be the judge of that. Like I asked _him_ , tell me something only James would know.’

Clarke shakes his head. ‘It won’t work that way, Jack. I told you he’d stolen my memories, but I could still be Clarke, and telling the truth about that. You’ll have to find another way to figure out which one of us is telling the truth.’

Jack rubs his forehead wearily. ‘If you’re James, you aren’t helping at all.’

‘How can I help, Jack?’

‘Let’s assume you’re telling the truth. Why do you think Clarke would want to stay in your body? What could he possibly hope to gain from it? He’s free now, no longer bound to the _Dutchman_ or Davy Jones.’

‘I don’t know, Jack. I have no idea what he plans to do. Unless… unless his intention is to remain close to you, and to ally himself with you, and be rid of me in the process.’

Jack stares at him. ‘No. No, I don’t think Clarke wants that.’

Clarke laughs humourlessly. ‘It really didn’t look that way when I came into your cabin a few minutes ago.’

Jack winces and looks out of the porthole at the gathering darkness outside. ‘Well, I can tell you you’re right about one thing. We’ve jumped out of the frying pan into the fire now, and no mistake.’

 

\--

 

‘Can’t you do anything?’ Jack rages at Tia. ‘Find out which one of them’s telling the truth?’

‘What do you want me to do, Jack?’ she rages back. ‘You’re the one who let Clarke do the damned spell.’

‘Can you reverse it?’

She shakes her head. ‘I’ve no idea what incantation he used. It must be of his own making.’

‘I know what you are, Tia,’ Jack says quietly. ‘You’re no ordinary mortal.’

She looks at him steadily. ‘Neither is Clarke, Jack. He has powerful allies in the other realm, and I have no insight into what he knows, or what he can do.’

‘Then you’re telling me all is lost? That James will have to stay down in the brig with Clarke, and that I will never know which of them is him?’

‘No, Jack. You’ll have to follow your heart on this one. You’re the one who has to work this out.’

‘Follow my heart? What kind of exceptionally useless advice is that?’ 

‘The only advice I can give you, Jack Sparrow.’

 

\--

 

‘Why?’ James says, looking at Clarke in the brig. 

His great-grandfather smiles. ‘I have my reasons.’

‘Why do you hate me so much?’

‘I don’t hate you, boy. You and your pirate captain just happen to stand in my way.’

‘In your way to what, exactly? You know where your bloody stone is. Why don’t you just go and get it?’

Clarke laughs. ‘You think your pirate is just going to stand by and watch me walk away with it?’

‘No. No, he isn’t. And neither am I, if I can help it.’

‘Aren’t you?’ Clarke smiles again. ‘I daresay you will. In fact, come morning, you will confess to Jack Sparrow that you are James Clarke.’

James stares at him, thrown by the confidence in his voice. ‘Are you completely out of your mind?’

‘Not at all, dear boy. I am, however, one of the most powerful sorcerers the world has ever known. And I promise you, I can easily strike Jack Sparrow dead whenever I choose to do so, even while I am in this brig and he is out of sight.’

James clenches his hands. ‘You’re bluffing.’

‘Am I? Would you like to call my bluff, then?’

‘You’re insane,’ James says in disgust, and finds himself thrown against the wall without Clarke having so much as lifted a finger.

‘Am I?’ Clarke says again. ‘Perhaps I am. But I’m also the one with all the power, James, and there’s not a thing you can do to change that.’ James responds by sweeping out a leg and knocking Clarke off his feet.

‘’Ere, stop that!’ Pintel, who is on watch, jumps to his feet as both the prisoners roll on the floor, throwing punches at each other, Clarke unable to use his powers now that someone is watching. ‘Someone get the Cap’n!’ Pintel yells, rattling the bars. ‘Stop, Commodore, stop, whichever one you are!’

Ragetti appears a minute later with Jack, who pushes his way through the watching crew – both the _Pearl_ ’s and the _Dauntless_ ’s – to grip the bars of the cell. 

‘What’s going on?’ he demands.

 

\--

 

The prisoners stop sparring at Jack’s arrival, glaring at each other, panting. Clarke has a bloody nose, but James looks unscathed. 

Jack stares at the two identical, dishevelled men, exasperated. ‘Clarke, get out here.’ He unlocks the door, and locks it again after Clarke steps out. He grabs Clarke by the elbow and drags him all the way up to his cabin, throwing him down in a chair. ‘Tilt your head back,’ he says angrily, and dabs at the bloody nose with a cloth. Clarke obeys silently, letting him clean the blood away. 

Jack tosses the cloth on his desk, his hands shaking. ‘What was that about?’ he demands. 

Clarke shrugs. ‘He just threatened to kill you. What was I supposed to do, stand by and give him my blessings?’

Jack groans and drops his head into his hands. ‘This is maddening. Maddening.’

Clarke leans forward, his hands clasped together. ‘I know,’ he says. ‘Let’s assume I’m Clarke, Jack. Will you let me go over to Zima’s ship?’

Jack looks up, startled. ‘Why?’

Clarke shrugs. ‘If I’m Clarke, you have nothing to lose. And if I’m not, I might be able to get you the evidence you need.’

‘No,’ Jack says angrily. ‘If you’re James, I’m not handing you over to Zima again.’

‘If you don’t, this situation is going to remain unchanged. Or get worse.’

Jack stares at him. ‘And what do you propose I tell Zima? That you’re James’s great-grandfather?’

‘Yes. That I’m a former pirate captain, the very one who created the spell that he seeks to breach. I’m willing to wager he won’t be so eager to throw me in the brig if he thinks I seek an alliance with him.’

‘And what if you’re Clarke, and that’s exactly what you seek to do?’ Jack says slowly.

Clarke meets his eyes. ‘Then, as I said, you won’t have anything to lose, since you’ll have James safe with you.’

‘Aye, but I won’t know that for sure, will I?’

‘Jack,’ Clarke begins, his hand reaching forward and then stopping before it can touch Jack’s. ‘Trust James,’ Clarke says, pulling his hand back. ‘It doesn’t matter who I am, it doesn’t matter who’s saying this to you. Trust James to do the right thing.’

Jack rubs his forehead with his hand, looking at Clarke. ‘Fine,’ he says wearily. ‘Go to Zima. Do what you have to do. Like you said, I don’t have a choice in the matter.’


	18. Chapter 18

‘Fine, go to Zima.’ Jack stares down at the bottle of rum in his hand as he sits on the floor in his cabin with his back to the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. 

‘Not you, rum,’ he says lovingly, stroking the bottle. ‘Nor you, my love.’ He strokes the wood under him. He sighs and swigs more rum, realising several moments later that the bottle is empty and that he has just drunk a mouthful of air. ‘Bugger,’ he mutters, and curls up on his side, his head pillowed on his arms.

He is sprawled on his back a few minutes later, staring at the ceiling with a fresh bottle of rum clutched in one hand, when Clarke looks in again. 

Jack closes his eyes firmly. ‘Go away.’ A firm hand grips his shoulder, and he opens an unfocused eye to find Clarke looking down at him. 

‘Do you intend to spend the night like this?’ Clarke asks, frowning.

‘It’s my ship and I’ll do exactly what I like, thank you very much.’

Clarke sighs and sits down beside him, taking the bottle from his hand. ‘I’ve never seen you actually get drunk before, Jack.’

Jack waits patiently unlike Clarke has taken a few sips before snatching the bottle back from him. ‘Well, I’ve never been in this sorta situation before. Have I, love?’ He pats the floor again, and smiles widely at Clarke. ‘See, she knows.’

Clarke gives him a small smile and takes the bottle from him again. Jack struggles into a sitting position beside him, his back to the wall and his right shoulder pressed against Clarke’s left. ‘Tell me something.’ He leans close to Clarke to whisper conspiratorially into his ear. ‘If you’re Clarke, why aren’t you pawing and groping me?’

Clarke laughs softly. ‘I’m pretending to be James, remember?’

‘Oh.’ Jack considers this for a moment, then shrugs and reaches up to stroke the back of his hand along the side of Clarke’s face, and feels a small shiver run through Clarke’s body. 

‘Don’t, Jack.’ Clarke pushes his hand away. 

‘Bugger,’ Jack grumbles. ‘James’d let me touch him.’ He tips more rum into his mouth.

After a moment, Clarke pulls the bottle away. ‘I think you’ve had more than enough, Jack.’

‘Give that back.’ Jack immediately tries to reach for the rum again.

‘No,’ Clarke says firmly, taking it from him and stretching out his long arm to put it out of Jack’s reach. 

Clarke gets to his feet, and a moment later Jack is pulled up to his feet. Clarke all but drags Jack to the inner cabin and pushes him down on the bed. 

Jack tries to pull away, suddenly wary. ‘Just let me get these off, Jack.’ Clarke’s hands move to his ankles, and Jack allows his boots to be removed. Clarke pulls Jack’s shirt over his head and then tugs at his breeches, and Jack raises his hips to allow him to pull them off, watching the man. 

‘Sleep, Jack. Please.’

‘You’ll remain on the _Pearl_?’

Clarke pulls the covers over Jack. ‘All right, Jack. If you wish.’ 

 

\--

 

A hand is shaking his shoulder gently. ‘Jack, wake up.’

‘No.’ Jack keeps his eyes shut tight and rolls over, turning his back to Clarke. 

‘Come on, Jack.’

‘Captain says no, mate.’ He burrows deeper into the bedclothes, shrugging off the hand.

To his surprise, he hears receding footsteps. _Hah. That’s Captain Jack Sparrow for you. Even first thing in the morning – the obscenely early morning, I might add – my voice is commanding enough to –_

‘Aargh!’ He sits bolt upright in bed as a jug of cold water is upended over his face.

‘Better?’ Clarke says sardonically, setting the empty jug down on the table and handing him a clean handkerchief.

‘Bugger off.’ Jack grabs the proffered cloth angrily and swipes at his face and hair.

‘I plan to, remember? You said you’d let me go to Zima.’

‘Go, then. What’re you still doing on board my ship?’

Clarke gives him a disarming grin. ‘I need you to tell me the precise location of that cave. Zima won’t be too impressed with me if I don’t know the way.’

‘It’s your frigging cave, mate. Are you telling me you don’t know where it is?’

Clarke sits down beside him. ‘Let’s assume I’m pretending to be Norrington again, shall we?’

Jack frowns. ‘What’d we do last night?’

‘Don’t you remember?’

Jack shudders at the thought of succumbing to Clarke’s considerable charms. ‘Please… what did we do?’

Clarke’s eyes flash with what might be sympathy, but he keeps his tone light. ‘Show me the location, and maybe I’ll tell you.’

Jack sneaks a peek under the sheet covering him, and groans as he realises he is wearing nothing. He looks up to find Clarke holding out his clothes. ‘I’ll get us some tea,’ he says with a grin, and leaves the cabin.

 

\-- 

 

Jack looks up from the map spread across his table as Clarke enters. ‘Where’s James?’

Clarke grins again, setting Jack’s mug down beside him as he sips from his own. ‘Still in the brig, remember?’

‘Oh, bugger.’ He leans forward to grip Clarke’s wrist. ‘Clarke, last night – I didn’t – we didn’t – did we?’

‘No, Jack,’ Clarke says firmly. ‘You were dead drunk, and you slept. That’s all you did. You slept.’ Jack releases his wrist and looks down at the map, jabbing his finger at a tiny dot off the western coast of Scotland. ‘There it is. Canna.’ Clarke bends his dark head over the map. ‘And where exactly is the cave?’

Jack shrugs. ‘Barbossa wouldn’t trust me with the precise location, but as said island is merely five miles long, it shouldn’t take long to find it.’ 

Clarke nods, noting down the coordinates in a small notebook. ‘Thank you, Jack.’ 

Jack looks at the man in front of him for a long moment. ‘You really don’t know where that cave is, do you?’ 

Clarke shrugs. ‘If I said I really didn’t, would you believe me?’ 

Jack exhales slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Clarke’s. ‘Try me.’

‘Screw the cave,’ Clarke mutters. ‘Jack, before I go, I want to know what you intend to do with my – with the crew of the _Dauntless_.’

Jack stabs a finger at the map again. ‘I suppose we could drop them off at our first stop. Barra.’

Clarke nods. ‘And Norrington?’

Jack raises his eyebrows. ‘Do you mean you, or him?’

The other man looks aggrieved. ‘Him.’

Jack shrugs. ‘He stays on the ship until I know the truth.’

Clarke nods. ‘Thank you.’ He holds out a hand to Jack, and Jack automatically takes it. Clarke squeezes rather than shakes his hand, his eyes on Jack’s face. ‘Take care of yourself, Jack.’

‘Bugger everything,’ Jack whispers, and yanks Clarke forward by his shirtfront to press his lips hard against his. 

Clarke pulls back from the aggressive contact, gasping, his hands on either side of Jack’s face. ‘If you want to do this, let’s do it my way now, shall we?’ He takes a moment until they have both recovered their breaths, green eyes intent on Jack’s, and then leans his head forward and takes Jack’s mouth firmly and tenderly. His thumbs caress Jack’s jaw as he cups his face, his tongue gently and insistently coaxing Jack’s mouth to yield to him. Jack’s eyes close involuntarily and Clarke – _Clarke?_ – slips one arm around his waist to hold him closely against his taller frame as he keeps one hand pressed against Jack’s face, his mouth soft and firm and warm against Jack’s. 

He pulls back after several lingering moments, his arms still around Jack. ‘Had enough?’ he says softly, and Jack looks up into his eyes to find no trace of mockery there, only warmth and fondness. He opens his mouth to speak, and shuts it again. 

The other man draws him close for a brief moment, his lips pressed to the side of Jack’s head. ‘I’ll get you your evidence, Jack,’ he whispers, before letting go of Jack and walking away.


	19. Chapter 19

‘Tia!’ Jack bangs his fist against the door of the cabin below deck, and she opens it a crack. ‘What is it, Sparrow? Must you attempt to break my door down?’

‘Actually, it’s my ship and therefore, my door,’ Jack points out, coughing as a dark cloud of smelly smoke drifts out of the cabin. Tia’s wizened assistant is bending over a small, bubbling pot, the hunch in her back even more pronounced in her current posture. Jack turns his eyes back on Tia. ‘Tia, you’ve got to do something. I think I just sent James to Zima.’

Tia steps out into the passage and shuts the door behind her. ‘What do you want me to do, Jack?’ she hisses angrily. ‘I told you I don’t know how to undo Clarke’s spell.’

‘Can you do that spell on Zima again? Can we control him in some way?’

Tia shakes her head. ‘It won’t work unless he’s right in front of me, Jack.’

Jack leans back against the wall, fighting his weariness. ‘What about the unlocking spell? Can you do without the heart?’

‘Aye. I think so. But I need a bit more time to work it out.’

‘You have two weeks before we reach, Tia. Make sure it works.’

She nods. ‘More than enough time for me, Jack.’

He nods back in thanks, and she retreats into her cabin again. 

 

\--

 

Jack goes to the brig to find the man in James’s body pacing his cell, his hands clasped behind him. He looks up as Jack unlocks the door. 

‘You can come out,’ Jack says wearily. 

James raises his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Where’s Clarke?’

‘S’far as I’m concerned, ye could be Clarke.’

James looks thoughtfully at him. ‘Will it help if I offer to stay in here until you figure it out, Jack?’

Jack glares at him. ‘No. No, it most unquestionably would not. Get out there and ask Ana how you can make yourself useful.’

 

\--

 

Jack’s eyes open in the darkness, the sheets sodden with sweat beneath his bare back. His hand reaches out automatically for the bottle of rum beside the bed, and he takes a long, steadying gulp. 

He throws off the suffocating sheets, pulls on his breeches, sets his hat firmly on his head, and wanders out on to the deck. Not a soul in sight, and he shivers as a cool night breeze brushes against his sweat-soaked torso. 

Not a soul on the _Pearl_ , anyway. He moves to the bow of his ship to lock gazes with the solitary figure leaning against the rail at the stern of the _Prince_ , mere feet away. ‘Not in the brig then, I see,’ he mutters.

The man smiles, eyes shining at Jack through the darkness. ‘Not this time.’

‘Made a deal with Zima, I s’pose.’

The smile vanishes, and he lifts a shoulder. ‘I can be a persuasive man, Captain Sparrow.’

Jack grunts and takes another comforting swig of rum. ‘You’ll catch your death of cold, Jack,’ Clarke admonishes softly. 

Jack waggles his eyebrows at him, brandishing his bottle. ‘What do you think this is for?’

The other man smiles slightly and shakes his head. ‘Incorrigible.’ 

Jack tilts his hat over his eyes and tips his chin to look at the other man. Clarke’s hair is short, much shorter than James’s. There is an elegance to it, as if it belongs to a classical musician. He raises a hand to push a lock of hair away from his forehead, and Jack’s breath catches in his throat as the moonlight falls on Clarke’s wrist. ‘Where did you get that?’

Clarke looks down at the small figurine tied to his wrist. ‘It’s been on me ever since you tied it there, Jack.’

‘It was on his wrist that I tied it.’ A shiver runs down Jack’s spine that has nothing to do with the cold night air against his bare back.

The other man looks as confused as Jack feels. ‘I know. I can’t explain it, Jack.’

‘Bloody hell. You didn’t think to mention it to me before you left the _Pearl_?’

‘I didn’t – I didn’t think about it, Jack. It was just – there.’

‘It’s all the evidence I need, James.’ Jack leaves his bottle of rum on the deck, pulls off his hat with a flourish, and springs lightly on to the rail of the _Pearl_.

 

\--

 

‘Jack, for heaven’s sake!’ James cries, but there is nothing he can do to stop the lithe figure from leaping overboard in one smooth movement, disappearing into the darkness of the ocean. He shrugs off his coat and lowers a jollyboat, keeping a line tied between it and the ship, and dives into the water himself. He has barely come up for air when he finds himself wrapped in Jack, Jack’s arms and legs slithering around him. ‘James, love, thought you were going to take forever.’

‘Jack,’ he gasps, laughing as rum-sweet lips find his own, his legs flailing to keep them both afloat, since Jack seems to have not the slightest inclination to worry about the negligible fact that they are treading fathoms-deep water in the middle of the Atlantic. He drags his mouth away from Jack’s, grabs the back of Jack’s breeches and kicks out for the boat before they are left behind entirely, and pushes Jack bodily into the boat before throwing himself in after him.

Jack is lying on his back and laughing helplessly. James pulls off his soaked shirt, shivering, as he glares icily at Jack. ‘Demented pirate,’ he mutters as he picks up his dry coat from the bottom of the boat, pulling Jack to him and wrapping the coat around them both. ‘What were you trying to do?’ he snaps, rubbing Jack’s arms under the coat, trying to get him warm. 

A happy nuzzling against his neck is the only response, and James sighs and allows himself to melt against the glistening body plastered to his, tightening his arms around Jack. ‘God, I missed you.’

Jack lifts his head, grinning maniacally. ‘Thought you were just calling me a demented pirate,’ he says, eyebrows wriggling inquiringly. 

‘You are,’ James shivers, pulling Jack even closer against him. ‘Certifiably demented.’ 

‘Thank you, Commodore,’ Jack says, apparently delighted at the compliment. He shoves James on to his back, rocking the boat dangerously, and pushes down against him, a wiry leg gliding between James’s thighs. He lifts James’s wrist to his mouth to lap his tongue around the small pendant at his wrist, and James groans, entangling his other hand in Jack’s damp hair, pulling Jack’s head down to his. Jack’s mouth devours his. 

They pull back for breath, panting. ‘And what would you call a Commodore who goes around kissing demented pirates?’

‘Just one demented pirate,’ James corrects him, hooking an arm around Jack’s lower back to pull him snugly over his own body. ‘ _My_ demented pirate,’ he says firmly, smiling, brushing his nose against Jack’s. 

‘Aye, James.’ Jack nibbles at his lips, and James laughs against his mouth and parts his lips for the insistent tongue again, and Jack wriggles on top of him as they share another indulgent kiss. ‘Missed you too, love,’ Jack confesses as their mouths pull apart again. ‘Missed you something fierce.’ 

‘I know,’ James grins.

‘So unfair that you’re pretty even when you smirk, Commodore. Especially when you smirk.’

James raises his eyebrows, rubbing the nape of Jack’s neck through his hair. ‘You dare undermine a Commodore’s authority by referring to him as ‘pretty’, Sparrow?’

Jack takes the bait, nipping at James’s earlobe in admonition and making him gasp. ‘Captain. Captain Sparrow, o prettiest Commodore in all the Caribbean.’

‘In case you haven’t noticed, Captain, we’ve left the Caribbean far behind,’ James murmurs as nimble fingers rub the small of his back, Jack’s mouth moving over his throat and down to his chest, teeth trapping a nipple and making him tighten his fingers in Jack’s wild, moonlight-drenched hair. 

‘All the better, Commodore, since I fully intend to ravish you in all the seven oceans, and then some.’ Jack’s tongue moves lower, licking around the rim of James’s navel. 

James grabs both his wrists. ‘Wait, Jack,’ he gasps, and Jack lifts his head to look up at his face. ‘Doesn’t it bother you that this body isn’t mine?’ he asks, cupping Jack’s face in his hands. 

Jack drops a kiss against James’s stomach before crawling back up against him. ‘Not if it doesn’t bother you, James.’ 

James groans and throws his head back. ‘I don’t think I can take the thought of you making love to Clarke’s body.’ 

‘Stupid Commodore,’ Jack growls, pushing his hips into James’s side, to punctuate just how stupid James is being. His hand sneaks up James’s thigh and into the front of his breeches, squeezing hard. James groans and bucks his hips off the boat, gasping Jack’s name. ‘Clarke’s body, eh?’ Jack murmurs into James’s ear. 

‘Jack, please,’ James entreats, his eyes shut tight, and Jack relents and presses his lips against one closed eyelid, and then the other. ‘As you wish, Commodore,’ he murmurs softly into James’s ear, before stealing another kiss and then laying his head contentedly against James’s shoulder. James wraps his arms around him, holding him close, and Jack burrows closer, curling up into him as they drift off to sleep in the gently rocking boat.


	20. Chapter 20

‘Jack, wake up.’

‘Don’t want to.’ Jack snuggles his face deeper into the shoulder beneath his head, refusing to open his eyes. 

‘Sparrow, that’s an order.’ 

How James can sound deliciously sleepy, sensually lazy and peremptorily military all at once defies Jack’s senses. He snaps his head up and glowers down at James. ‘Cutting it mighty fine, Commodore.’

James laughs. ‘I beg your pardon, Captain.’

‘Well, since you’re begging and all.’ Jack threads his fingers together at the nape of James’s neck and gives him a thoroughly leisurely good morning kiss.

‘We must go, Jack,’ James murmurs against his lips, arms drawing Jack closer, belying his words.

‘Mm.’ Jack ignores him and continues feasting on his mouth. 

Finally, James reluctantly takes Jack’s face in his hands and pushes his head back. ‘We must,’ he insists, thumbs caressing Jack’s jawline. ‘It’s almost dawn.’

Jack groans, dipping his forehead against James’s bare shoulder. ‘Don’t want to.’

‘Your vocabulary seems decidedly limited first thing in the morning, Captain Sparrow.’

‘Smirk all you like, Commodore. My tongue would rather be doing this, see?’ He runs the tip of his tongue along James’s face, from his cheek to his temple.

‘What, licking me like an ice cream?’ James wriggles under him, his voice honeyed with arousal.

‘Much, much more delectable than an ice cream, love.’ Jack’s teeth nip lightly at the small gold ring in his earlobe, and James chuckles warmly. ‘You’re going to miss this earring, aren’t you?’

‘That I am.’ Jack sits up reluctantly and pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, as he studies the still-reclining James. ‘You know, Clarke’s a fine-looking’ man. Maybe I’ll just keep him.’

‘Maybe you should,’ James drawls in amusement as he sits up himself and pulls on his shirt. ‘After all, he _is_ a pirate. Much more suited to your own tastes.’

‘Much more suited,’ Jack agrees, watching James straighten his clothing. ‘You’ll be going back to Zima, then?’

‘I must, Jack.’ James’s eyes flash with empathy. ‘It’s the only way to – ’

‘ – gain some leverage over Zima. I know.’

Jack rubs his thumb against one of his kohl-smeared eyelids before running it gently over James’s cheek, leaving a small dark smudge there. ‘They do this in India. For luck.’

James smiles, holding Jack’s hand against his face for a moment. ‘I know. I spent the first ten years of my life in Calcutta.’

‘Many stories to be told, then,’ Jack says as he rises to his knees, preparing to dive overboard. 

‘Many stories,’ James agrees softly, running his hand over the brutal scars on Jack’s bare arm. 

‘Until tonight, then.’ Jack flashes him a quick, lopsided smile before letting himself tumble over the side of the boat.

 

\--

 

The galley is warm and inviting, and Jack sits down across the table from a brooding Tia. ‘How’s it going, lass?’ He looks at Tia’s assistant, hunched over next to her. ‘Er, lasses.’ Tia grunts in response without looking up, fingers clutching a mug of rum-soaked chocolate.

‘Ta, Marty,’ he grins as his head chef plonks a bowl of steaming stew in front of him. ‘Not good, then?’ he asks Tia cheerfully.

She lifts her head, and he sees pronounced dark circles under her eyes. ‘This is a bad idea, Sparrow. A very very bad idea.’

‘Why, love?’ He gulps down a spoonful of soup and hot potato.

‘This spell is dark magic, Sparrow, very dark magic. I don’t like it.’ She lowers her voice. ‘This spell is madness. I’d say you do your best to figure out which of them is James, and scarper with him. Leave Clarke and Zima to this insanity.’

‘Can’t do that, love.’

‘And why not, Sparrow?’ a rough, sea-hardened voice says in amusement, and Jack looks up, frowning, as Tia’s assistant stands and straightens. And keeps straightening, the lump in her back popping free to land on the table as a tiny bundle of fur that chatters disapprovingly at him in some simian tongue. 

Jack drinks deeply from his bottle of rum before nodding amiably at the figure that towers over him, bejewelled fingers reaching out to stroke the monkey’s back. ‘Hector.’

Barbossa leers, withdraws an apple from his pocket, and bites heartily into it. ‘Thank you for taking care of my ship, lad. I’ll be having it back now, if you please.’


	21. Chapter 21

‘Bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger.’ Jack lies facedown on the floor of his own brig, the tip of his nose pressed to the floor.

‘Swearing’s not gonna help us, Captain,’ Anamaria snaps from the cell across the passage, where she and Gibbs are imprisoned.

Jack rolls over on to his back and takes a swig of his rum. ‘There are things growing on the ceiling,’ he remarks to no one in particular.

‘Lord’s sakes, Jack.’ Gibbs groans, head in hands.

Jack responds by sneezing violently, and rolls over on to his side to find a pair of feet in front of his eyes. His eyes travel up the body to meet Tia’s dark ones as she stands outside the cell. He digs a finger into his nostril. ‘Never had such a big bogey come out before. Broken my own record, I have.’

‘He offered to share the treasure with me,’ she shrugs.

‘Traitor _witch_!’ Anamaria screams from her cell, and Gibbs groans louder and covers his head with his arms.

‘Not to worry, lass.’ Jack sits up against the wall, pulling his hat over his eyes. ‘You’ll be paid back someday, pirate to pirate.’

‘Scheming _cow_!’ Anamaria yells.

‘I’m no pirate, Sparrow,’ Tia hisses. ‘You know that.’

Jack pushes his hat back with the top of his bottle. ‘Get to business, Tia. To what do I owe the pleasure of your fine company?’

Tia drops to her knees, her face close to the bars. ‘Which of them is him? The Commodore?’

Jack tilts his head, sipping thoughtfully. ‘What makes you think I know?’

‘I know you know, Sparrow.’

Jack shrugs. ‘What difference does it make?’

‘’Cause one of them’s going to die,’ Tia snaps. 

Jack laughs, shaking his head. ‘You were never working on that spell, were you, lass?’

‘I can save his life, Sparrow. I never intended for anyone to get hurt.’ 

Jack leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, letting out a loud snore through his open mouth. Tia curses and he hears the swish of skirts as she leaves. He opens an eye to grin at Anamaria. ‘Your voice never sounded so much like music to me ears, Ana.’

Ana spits on the floor. ‘I’m gonna kill that traitor someday, Cap’n.’

‘Be my guest, Ana. But kindly desist from defiling my _Pearl_.’

 

\--

 

Hours later, he is trying to peek through one of the many small holes in the hull when he hears someone approach the cell. ‘Jack?’

He turns around instantly, and scrambles over to the bars. ‘James, love, you’re a sight for sore eyes.’

‘Jack, are you all right?’ Anxious eyes rake his face in the shreds of moonlight through the _Pearl_ ’s battered side, and a warm hand reaches through the bars to cup his face.

‘M’fine, James. Was afraid they’d locked you up, too.’ He smiles at James, hoping to soothe away the frown of anxiety from his forehead. ‘What, no welcome kiss, or rum, or oh, a set of keys, maybe, to get me out of this frigging cell?’

‘You’re staying in there, Jack,’ James says firmly.

‘Say again?’ Jack asks in disbelief.

‘You’re out of trouble in there,’ James points out reasonably. ‘If I let you out, you’re only going to do something insane.’

‘Aye, like getting to be captain of me ship again!’ Jack growls, rattling the bars. ‘James Norrington, you let me out of here this instant!’

‘Jack, listen to me. Listen.’ James holds Jack’s head through the bars, thumbs rubbing behind Jack’s ears, and Jack calms down under his touch, despite every effort not to. ‘If I let you out, they’ll be searching for you everywhere, and Barbossa and Zima may decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.’

Jack forces himself to take deep breaths, leaning his forehead against James’s. ‘I can’t stand it, James,’ he whispers through clenched teeth. ‘I can’t stand being locked up like this in my own brig. I’ll go mad.’

‘You won’t,’ James says fiercely, pulling him close, the bars between them digging into their chests. ‘You’ll see this through, because you’re Captain Jack Sparrow.’

‘Aye. That I am,’ Jack says wearily, sitting back on his heels. He wipes his nose with his sleeve, looking up at James through his lashes.

James sighs, reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a bunch of keys. ‘Your spare keys, Jack,’ he says, putting them in Jack’s hand and letting his own hand rest on Jack’s thigh. 

‘James, you’re a marvel.’ Jack grins in delight.

James glowers at him with narrowed eyes. ‘You knew all along that I had them, didn’t you?’

‘Didn’t have the faintest, love,’ Jack says airily.

James has to smile. ‘Just promise me you won’t use them unless you have to?’

‘Aye, James. Of course.’ Jack nods much too earnestly, his face all wide-eyed innocence. 

‘Pirate,’ James mutters. He hands Jack a clean handkerchief. ‘For the sake of my sanity, please use this.’

 

\--

 

Jack looks at the door, then at the keys in his hand, then back at the door, and scowls darkly. _Promise me you won’t use them unless you have to._

_Beastly barnacles. Since when do I take orders from Navy whelps who have the most alluring eyes and the most honeyed voices and the most irresistible air of nobility and… Oh, bugger._

_Open that door, Jack Sparrow. You know you want to._

_Aye? I’d sing soprano in the Sunday school choir if that boy asked me to, and no mistake._

_Bugger._

 

\--

 

‘So. Captain Clarke. Commodore Norrington.’ Zima looks James and Clarke, standing shoulder to shoulder, up and down. ‘There seems to be some confusion about who you say you are, and who you really are.’

‘I haven’t kept anything from you, Captain,’ Clarke says quickly.

‘Indeed,’ Zima says softly, tiny black eyes glittering with an ageless malice. He throws a lazy glance at Barbossa, who is sitting in Jack’s chair, chewing moodily on an apple. ‘Barbossa would beg to differ about that.’

‘I fear Captain Barbossa is being led astray by that malevolent witch,’ James says, letting his voice harden with a spitefulness he does not feel.

‘Is that what you fear?’ Zima says softly. James keeps his face impassive.

‘You will, however, be glad to know that I have come up with a very simple test to determine which of you is the real Commodore Norrington,’ Zima continues, his eyes never leaving James’s and Clarke’s faces.

‘Indeed, Captain?’ James tries to sound politely interested.

‘According to Barbossa, Sparrow and Norrington have become quite… attached to each other. Isn’t that right, Hector?’ Barbossa grunts.

James says nothing, settling for keeping the expression of courteous attention on his face, even as he feels his guts twist in foreboding. 

Zima smiles in satisfaction. ‘A simple test, then, which Captain Clarke will pass, and Commodore Norrington will fail.’

 

\--

 

James leans against the wall in Jack’s cabin, watching Clarke reclining in Jack’s chair, his feet on the table, chewing contentedly on one of Barbossa’s apples. 

‘Worried?’ Clarke smiles.

‘You’re locked in here, too,’ James points out, his voice icy.

‘Ah, but I don’t have to worry about passing the test,’ Clarke grins widely. ‘You’re the one who hasn’t studied for it, lad.’

‘I’ll take my chances.’

Clarke chuckles. ‘I have no doubt about your bravery, boy. I’m willing to wager your concerns are with your pirate at the moment.’

James looks resolutely out through the porthole, trying to ignore his own voice as it cuts through to the heart of his anxiety.

‘As Zima mentioned,’ Clarke goes on breezily, ‘this test of his is based on your association with Sparrow. Ergo, it seems very likely that Sparrow will suffer as a result of the little competition that Zima is arranging between us.’

‘So it’s ‘Sparrow’ now, is it?’ James says, turning back to look at Clarke. ‘What happened to all those times you tried to win Jack over?’

Clarke shakes his head. ‘We all have to make our choices, my boy. Choose wisely, pick the winning side, and you can’t go wrong.’

James turns his eyes back to the ocean, and there is silence for the next few minutes except for the crunching of Clarke’s teeth on the apple, and the soft creaks of the _Pearl_ , which to James have never sounded more plaintive. 

The door opens to reveal Tyler’s bulky frame, and he silently jerks his head sideways to indicate that they are to step out on to the deck. James strides out before Clarke can get his feet on the floor, stepping out into the warm morning sun, which does nothing to stop him from feeling that his blood has frozen in his veins at the sight in front of him.

The slender, tanned figure of Captain Jack Sparrow is kneeling on the deck in front of the mainmast, stripped to his waist, his wrists pulled up above his head and manacled to the mast. He feels rather than sees Clarke step up to stand beside him, unable to tear his eyes away from the scarred, sinewy elegance of Jack’s back, covered with a light sheen of perspiration from the sun.

Tyler steps forward and shoves a whip into his hand, and James feels a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s simple, you see,’ Zima whispers softly into his ear, squeezing his shoulder. ‘Ten lashes are all it will take to prove who you are.’

‘This is barbaric,’ James says through clenched teeth. 

‘But necessary, my lad,’ Zima says sorrowfully. James does not respond. The whip falls from his hand on to the deck of the _Pearl_ , and Zima laughs in triumph. ‘Would you like to do the honours, Captain Clarke?’

‘Give me that whip,’ Clarke says, grinning, and moves to stand behind Jack. 

James grasps his raised arm. ‘I said you weren’t to touch him. Or have you forgotten already?’

Zima smiles genially at him. ‘Those lashes are going to be administered, Commodore, and you have no authority to stop them.’

Clarke raises his arm again, grinning. Before it can come down James drops to his knees behind Jack, his hands on Jack’s waist. His hold tightens involuntarily as the first blow lands on his back, ripping his shirt apart and leaving a deep red welt on his skin. 

‘James, you fool,’ Jack says softly. 

‘Shut up, Sparrow,’ James mutters, and then bites back a gasp as the second blow lands viciously on his back, tearing into his flesh. By the tenth blow he can stay upright only by leaning on Jack, who has not said another word.

Clarke does not stop at ten, seeming to enjoy himself immensely as he continues to punish James. Through a haze of pain, James registers the incongruousness of his own hand bearing the whip, and Clarke’s readiness to mutilate his own body before him. 

 

\--

 

‘Blooming idiot,’ Jack mutters as he cleans James’s wounds in the brig. ‘Blooming Navy man can’t take a whip to a pirate’s back when his own sodding life depends on it.’

‘I can hear you, you know,’ James says, his eyes closed.

‘Can you, now?’ Jack says with barely disguised anger, swabbing at James’s back a little harder than necessary, and making him flinch. ‘Sorry,’ he says quickly. 

James turns on his side, letting his head rest against Jack’s thigh. ‘Don’t be, Jack.’

Jack leans back against the wall, his face tight. ‘I’m going to kill Clarke with my bare hands, James.’

‘Don’t let him get to you, Jack.’

‘James, if you ever do that to me again—’

‘I was under the impression that I was the one being punished,’ James says lightly. Jack’s eyes glint dangerously, and James sighs. ‘I’m sorry, Jack. I couldn’t let them hurt you.’

‘Aye? The same way you couldn’t take the whip to me?’

‘Jack, you didn’t seriously expect me to—’

‘You should have done it, Commodore. We’d still have the upper hand if you hadn’t lost your nerve.’

‘Lost my nerve?’ James sits up, indignant. ‘Is that what you want to call it?’

‘Call it what you will, Commodore. I call it being lily-livered.’

‘Sparrow, you’re testing my patience.’

‘I beg your pardon, Norrington. Forgot you aren’t too good at passing tests.’ Jack pulls his hat down over his eyes and crosses his arms.

James stares at him, but footsteps distract him before he can think of a rejoinder. He looks up to see his own body outside the cell. 

Clarke grins down at him. ‘Awake already, are we? You’re a tough nut to crack, my boy.’

‘What do you want, Clarke?’ James pulls himself to his feet. 

‘Oh, nothing important. Just your pirate over there.’

‘What about him?’ James asks, a clammy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

‘James, James, surely you realise we have no further use for him?’

‘What do you plan to do with him?’

‘Oh, Hector’s come up with something good. Bit of a pattern between them, it seems.’

 

\--

 

The island is small and uncharted, but offers plenty of fresh water for the two ships to replenish their dwindling supplies. James stands on the deck of the _Pearl_ next to Jack, who is resolutely looking everywhere but at him. 

‘This is murder,’ James says finally, looking from Zima to Barbossa. 

Barbossa laughs. ‘Oh, Jack’ll probably find his loyal sea-turtles to help him. Time you said your goodbyes, mate,’ he grins at Jack, handing him a pistol. ‘Commodore, you can have the honour of setting Jack free.’

James takes the proffered key and unlocks the manacles around Jack’s wrists, with some hindrance from the chains on his own hands. Jack leans in close for a moment, and James feels something cold being slipped into his shirt. 

‘Fare thee well, James,’ Jack whispers in his ear. And then he is gone, diving into the ocean from the deck of the _Pearl_ and striking out for the small, unwelcoming shore, not pausing to look back as the two ships sail away.


	22. Chapter 22

James awakens in the brig of the _Pearl_ , his back hurting abominably. Then he realises that he has woken up because someone is whispering to him from the other side of the bars. He pulls himself into a sitting position, his back screaming in protest. 

‘Tia?’

‘James. Can you move? Come closer?’

‘Even if I could, I wouldn’t.’

She clicks her tongue impatiently. ‘When will you thickheaded men understand that I didn’t intend for either of you to get hurt?’

‘Maybe when we have some evidence of that.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Here, drink this.’ She pushes a small bottle through the bars toward James.

‘You don’t seriously think I will, do you?’

‘James, Clarke’s body is dying.’

He sucks in his breath. ‘Why should I believe you?’

‘You’ve felt the pains. You know I’m telling you the truth. Why else would he be so determined to keep your young, healthy body?’

James says nothing.

‘I want to help, James.’

‘Why? You didn’t seem very keen on helping when Barbossa left Jack stranded.’

‘I want to help both of you, James. If you only let me.’

‘Help Jack, and I will forgive you your treason, Tia.’

Tia gives him an inscrutable look. ‘Drink the potion, James. It won’t kill you,’ she says dryly before leaving.

 

\--

 

‘Lord sakes, Commodore, you’re as resourceful as Jack,’ Gibbs grins as James unlocks the door to his cell late that night. 

‘Commodore, how’s your back?’ Anamaria asks, looking at him with concern.

‘I’m fine,’ James says quickly. ‘Only I’m not sure what we should do next.’

‘What we should do,’ Anamaria says feelingly, ‘is to take control of the _Pearl_ again.’ She throws James a look that says _that should be obvious._

‘I don’t know, Ana. My crew is in the brig of the _Prince_. I’m afraid Barbossa and Zima will just kill them out of spite if we try anything of the sort.’

‘They’d kill ‘em anyway, Commodore,’ Gibbs says sensibly. ‘How can you be sure they’re still alive?’

‘I have to hope they are, Gibbs. Now, if you’re both up to it, we need to engage in a spot of kidnapping.’

Thirty minutes later they are back in James’s cell with a thoroughly disgruntled, half-asleep, bound and gagged Clarke. ‘Ana, could you find me a pair of scissors?’ James grins up at her from where he is holding Clarke down on the floor of the cell.

Clarke mumbles something furiously from behind the cloth stuffed in his mouth.

‘Oh, I think I’m long overdue for a haircut, don’t you?’ James says pleasantly. Ana returns brandishing a huge pair of scissors. ‘Let me do the honours, Commodore.’

‘Be my guest, Ana.’ James watches as Gibbs sits on Clarke’s legs to hold him down, and Anamaria begins cutting off his hair. 

‘Seems a shame to cut it, though,’ Ana says. ‘You do have pretty hair, Commodore.’

James laughs. ‘It’s for a good cause, Ana.’

Clarke writhes and struggles, and Anamaria slaps the side of his head. ‘Now listen here, you. Sit still, or I won’t be responsible for nipping off the tips of your earlobes. Savvy?’ Clarke stops struggling, settling for glaring daggers at James as Anamaria keeps snipping away until James’s shoulder-length hair has been shortened to the same length as Clarke’s. 

James checks that the gag is secure, and locks Clarke in the cell before handing the keys to Anamaria. ‘Go back to your cell and lock yourselves in. Don’t take unnecessary risks. If our ruse is discovered, go all out and fight to get the _Pearl_ in your hands. If not, sit tight until we reach Canna, and take her over once Barbossa is ashore.’

‘Right you are, Commodore,’ Ana says, surprising him by giving him a quick hug. ‘You be careful, now.’

James returns to Clarke’s cabin and lies down on the bed, settling for lying on his side.

Tia’s potion seems to have helped a little, but he can sense that the body he’s in is steadily getting weaker. He hopes Jack is all right, and wonders, without much optimism behind the thought, if Tia will come through on her promise to help Jack.

 

\--

 

‘What happened to your hair?’ Barbossa gives James a barely interested look as he visits the captain’s cabin the next morning.

James shrugs. ‘I got tired of looking like someone else. And never had much patience with long hair, myself. Difficult to maintain.’ He throws a pointed look at Barbossa’s head. ‘If you bother to keep it clean, that is.’

Barbossa laughs. ‘You’re a strange sort of pirate, Clarke.’ He raises his voice. ‘Tyler, get in here. I know you’re lurking around outside.’ Tyler ambles in, looking as surly as ever. ‘Go down to the brig and check on Norrington,’ Barbossa says to Tyler, eyes on James. 

James keeps his face neutral, hoping that he looks as uninterested as possible. He takes an apple and settles down in a chair to chew lazily on it, his feet on the table, hoping to emulate Clarke’s indifferent nonchalance. Barbossa keeps one eye on him as he fiddles with something in his hands, and James sees that it is Jack’s compass. He tosses it suddenly to James, who catches it one-handed. He glances down at it, and the needle instantly swings around to point back toward the island on which Jack has been marooned.

James tosses the compass on to the table before Barbossa catches sight of where the needle is pointing.

Tyler appears in the doorway again. ‘Well?’ Barbossa snaps. 

‘’E’s snug as a bug, Cap’n.’ 

James raises an eyebrow at Tyler’s sudden garrulousness, and Barbossa grins, leering. He dismisses Tyler with a wave of his hand. ‘For a moment there, you had me thinking you were Norrington.’

‘I have a feeling you wouldn’t care much if I were,’ James says evenly, facing Barbossa’s stare.

The other man laughs. ‘Aye. You be right, boy.’

James laughs, trying to ignore the dull but steady throbbing in his stomach. The pain had started as a faint throb, but is steadily getting worse. ‘I’m a hundred and nine years old, Barbossa.’ 

‘Still look like a boy to me,’ Barbossa grunts. ‘Been thinking about what you said about Zima,’ he says, throwing James a look.

James shrugs unconcernedly, even as his ears prick up. ‘And?’

‘And,’ Barbossa says slowly, ‘I think what you said makes sense. No point splitting that treasure three ways, when it could be two.’

‘Sounds wise to me, Captain.’ James forces himself to grin.

‘’Twas your idea, mate,’ Barbossa grunts. ‘Must say I didn’t think you had the makings of a pirate, looking so Commodorely an’ all, but you’ve convinced me otherwise.’

‘My physical resemblance to my great-grandson need hardly reflect on my nature, Hector.’ James does his best to look mockingly affronted.

Barbossa laughs. ‘Aye, you’re right. Shouldn’t you be off to fulfil your mission, then?’

‘My mission?’

‘Taking care of Zima,’ Barbossa says impatiently.

‘Of course.’ James gets to his feet, steadying himself by holding on to the table as pain stabs through his body. _Christ, this isn’t going to be easy._

 

\--

 

Jack watches darkly from the small shore of Canna as the last of the white crabs slips back into the ocean. He hadn’t expected to receive any help from Tia, but here he is now, at their destination much before the _Pearl_ and the _Prince_ could have sailed there.

The tiny, whale-shaped island is surprisingly green and hilly. He begins to walk, and is soon at the top of a small hillock. He shades his eyes with his hand and looks around, noticing a little range of hills, no more than a couple of miles away. If he’s to start looking for a cave, they definitely seem to be a likely place.

He begins his descent, stumbling and cursing rather frequently as his feet bump into brambles and trip over the broken ground

 

\--

 

‘So, Captain Clarke.’ Zima raises his eyebrows at what appears to be Clarke’s new haircut, but does not comment on it. ‘I have been considering your little proposition.’

James sits down at the edge of Zima’s neat little desk in a seemingly insolent stance, more in an effort to keep himself on his feet than to make an impression on Zima. ‘And have you come to a conclusion?’ he asks mildly. Trust Clarke to play a double-handed game.

‘I have, indeed. Several, to be precise.’

‘Do enlighten me, Captain.’

‘Do not for a moment think that I believe you have not made a similar proposal to Barbossa. Also do not make the mistake of thinking you are indispensable, _James_.’ It is a moment before James remembers that he shares a first name with Clarke, but there is a menacing edge to Zima’s smile, and James knows what he is insinuating. 

‘Our brilliant Hector should not be letting you walk around with such impunity,’ Zima says, still smiling.

‘Tell me, Captain,’ James says, a germ of an idea forming in his head. ‘What prevents you from taking me prisoner and beating Barbossa to the treasure?’

Zima is very still, his tiny black eyes fixed on James. ‘Well, for one, the _Prince_ cannot outdo the Black _Pearl_ in speed.’

‘What you lack in speed, you make up for in power. The _Prince_ can easily outgun the _Pearl_ , and Barbossa knows it.’ James utters a silent apology to Jack and the _Pearl_ even as he says the words.

‘That is true. I would have scuttled Sparrow’s ship if not for that hundred-gun ship he appeared to have commandeered.’

‘It was an unfair fight, indeed,’ James says, his heart wrenched back to quite a different battle, and the memory of the last time he had set eyes on the Dauntless.

‘I do believe that half a captain’s identity is his ship,’ Zima goes on somewhat dreamily, as if sensing James’s mood. ‘I daresay you’ll be wanting to get back to yours.’

‘I – what?’ James asks, distracted.

‘Your ship, Captain Clarke. You did express some concern at what shape she might be in after all this time.’

‘I – yes, I seem to remember saying something to that effect.’

Zima shrugs. ‘With Sparrow out of the way and Barbossa soon to follow, you could as well set your sights on the _Black Pearl_. How did that vagrant excuse for a pirate ever get his grubby hands on a ship like that?’

James lifts an unconcerned shoulder. ‘I’m afraid I know nothing of Captain Sparrow’s history, nor do I wish to.’

‘Surely you must have heard something of him during your long years on board the _Dutchman_ , even if he arrived on the scene long after your time.’

‘There were stories, ridiculous tales that I took to be more legend than fact. Sparrow seems to have something of a penchant for spreading fantastic myths about himself and his ship.’

‘A fascinating creature, nonetheless,’ Zima says thoughtfully. ‘It seemed quite a shame to leave him to die.’ 

‘Things are certainly entertaining while he’s around,’ James says. 

‘Indeed,’ Zima agrees. ‘If Sparrow wasn’t too confoundedly clever for his own good, I would much rather have marooned that idiot Barbossa than him.’

‘Wasn’t he working with you for a while?’ James asks with genuine curiosity. ‘I thought he helped you capture Norrington.’

‘He most certainly did not, although he led me to believe that he was assisting me, the scallywag,’ Zima laughs. 

‘Land ahoy!’ There is an excited shout from the deck, and Zima leaves the cabin to investigate.

James follows him out, but not before picking up the bunch of keys lying on his desk. 

 

\--

 

James leans against the bulwark and watches as the ships drift into a little cove near Barra. He closes his eyes briefly as a spasm of pain assaults him again, and his fingers clutch the railing tightly. 

Most of Zima’s crew is on deck now, helping to bring the ship in and waiting to go ashore. After making sure that Zima’s attention is elsewhere, James slips below deck and into the brig, pushing away memories of his own incarceration in the gloomy interiors of the _Prince_ as he reaches the cells. 

‘Commodore!’ Groves and Gillette cry as one as he unlocks the door. 

James nods at them both, running anxious eyes over his bedraggled crew. ‘Is everyone all right? Quickly, we don’t have much time. Proceed to the galley in twos. There’s an opening to one of the lower decks beyond the pantry. Fight your way out if necessary. We have nothing to lose now.’ He takes his officers aside as the rest of the men file out. 

‘Sir, what about you?’ Groves says. ‘You are joining us, I hope?’

‘Not yet, Theo. I must see this through.’

‘Sir, I must protest. This has gone far enough. You have endured far too much already, and – ’

‘Theo, I will not have any arguments from you. I am still your commander, and I will not have my orders disputed.’

‘And we are still your friends, James,’ Gillette says quietly. ‘What did you think we felt when you were flogged before our eyes, and there was nothing we could do?’ he continues, his voice hardening with anger. ‘And now you expect us to leave you in the hands of these – these reprobates, and – ’

‘Andrew, I appreciate your concern,’ James says quickly, clasping Gillette’s shoulder. ‘And yours,’ he says, turning to Groves. ‘But I need the crew to proceed to the nearest Naval base as swiftly as possible, and bring aid to Carra. Can I count on both of you to see that it is done?’

The two lieutenants exchange glances. ‘Of course, sir,’ Groves says quickly. 

‘Thank you, Theo… Andy, you should both be on your way.’

‘Godspeed, James,’ Andrew says quietly, and Theo squeezes his arm once before they follow the rest of the _Dauntless_ ’s crew, leaving James alone in the cell.


	23. Chapter 23

On the island of Carra, Jack stares in wordless amazement at the deep chasm before him. He glances back at the mouth of the long, winding tunnel he has just emerged from, and there is no trace of sunlight; there seems to be no natural source of light at all, except for the strange, phosphoric glow from the walls of the inside of the hill. 

He goes to the edge of the precipice he is standing on, and peers over it. Far below him is the distant, inky surface of the ocean that has eaten its way into the foundation of rock beneath the island, forming a massive underground cove, rippling water swishing quietly against the rocks below. 

Despite the knowledge that untold treasures could be lurking very close, Jack is mesmerised for the moment by the dark bulk that floats close to the edge of the rocky shore below. It’s unmistakeably a ship.

There doesn’t seem to be any safe way down for him, but where there’s no safe way, there’s always an interesting one. Jack walks backward, eyeing the edge of the precipice. Then he takes a running dive into the dark water below.

He emerges from the water with a gasp, shaking back his hair as a thrill runs through him at the coldness of the ocean, and the exhilaration of the dive. He strikes out for the shore, moving toward the ship moored metres away from him.

‘She’s a beauty, and no mistake,’ he whispers to himself, gazing at the towering bulk in front of him. The ship’s white sails billow gently in the drift of a distant breeze, the burnished wood of her hull gleaming in the semi-darkness. Gold lettering at her bow pronounces her name the __Angeline_. _

 

\--

 

James waits until most of the _Pearl_ ’s crew—those loyal to Barbossa and currently roaming free—have wandered off the ship into town before he slips below deck. On his way toward the brig, he almost collides with Tia, who is struggling down the passage with her arms full of books and bottles.

‘Now which one are you?’ she snaps. ‘You’re all over the place.’

‘Going somewhere?’ James asks.

‘Norrington,’ she groans. ‘I shoulda known.’

‘Am I that obvious?’ 

Tia snorts. ‘Clarke wouldn’t care less if I disappeared, would he, Commodore? _He_ can do the spell on his own just fine.’

‘We need you, Tia,’ James says quietly. The dull pounding—now in his chest as well—escalates into a sudden sharp pain that forces him to lay a hand against the _Pearl_ ’s wall for support.

‘Nothing like staring death in de face to show you who has the power and who doesn’t, is there, Commodore?’ 

James, struggling for breath now, is not sure if her eyes are glittering with malice or empathy. He keeps himself on his feet. ‘You know as well as I do that Barbossa would never share any power with you. Help us, and you know Jack will treat you fairly.’

‘And what would a pirate have that I would want?’ she scoffs, her eyes fixed on him.

‘Whatever Clarke has hidden is immensely powerful, Tia. Something even you might find useful,’ he says evenly.

She sighs, and for a moment James sees a hint of an ancient weariness in her eyes. She blinks, and it is gone. 

‘You don’t have much time left, Commodore,’ she observes softly.

‘I know.’ He raises a hand to rub his weary eyes briefly, and Tia lets out a soft exclamation. ‘Where did you get that?’ she asks, taking him by the wrist, her eyes fixed on his little piece of jade.

‘Jack,’ he says simply, not caring to explain further. The mention of Jack’s name makes him remember just how tired he is, how afraid, not of death but of the suspicion that it will arrive before he can lay eyes on Jack again.

‘And where might Jack have gotten it?’

‘I have no idea whatsoever, Tia.’

She holds his gaze for a long moment and then nods, suddenly businesslike. ‘Don’t take it off. Now, have you been drinking the potion?’

‘Yes.’

‘Show me the bottle.’

He does, and she looks at the small amount of liquid left in it. ‘Finish it, Commodore. Finish it now.’

He shrugs, drains the bottle, and hands it back to her. ‘What is this for, really? It’s not healing me, is it?

‘No, Commodore. It’s preparing you.’ A fleeting look—perhaps of sadness—crosses her face for an instant, before she picks up her load again. 

‘That’s as much as I can do for you, Commodore. Farewell, and may you know before the end that I never meant you harm.’ 

James watches as she slips down the corridor, a small figure graceful even under her load, and vanishes from sight.

 

\--

 

James stops in front of the cells, and stares wordlessly. The ¬ _Pearl_ ’s crew—a small, bedraggled group of the few pirates who had chosen to remain loyal to Jack—lies motionless in the cells. The sight of their bodies lying sprawled in the cells sends a thrill of fear through James, and he drops to his knees outside the closest cell. 

‘Gibbs?’ He gently slaps the face of the figure reclining— _unconscious? dead?_ —against the bars. ‘Mr Gibbs!’ Gibbs’ head lolls back on his shoulder and he seems completely unresponsive, if warm.

‘Oh, they aren’t going to wake, James,’ James hears his own voice say, and turns around to see Clarke standing behind him, looking amused. 

He pulls himself carefully to his feet. To betray the state of his body to Clarke now would mean certain disaster, but he is unsure how he is going to manage it. 

‘What have you done to them?’ he asks as steadily as possible, willing the growing pain to stay out of his voice.

The other man frowns, as if disappointed with himself. ‘Merely put them to sleep. That wildcat’—he gestures toward Anamaria—‘was subjecting me to a very poorly concocted sleeping draught, and even in my weakened state I could deflect it at her and the rest of Sparrow’s pathetic little crew.’

He makes a small half-circle around James, his drawn sword glinting in the semi-darkness of the brig, and raises the tip of the sword to James’s throat. ‘Amazing… I do believe we look identical now, after you took all the trouble to cut off my hair.’

‘My hair, you mean,’ James says conversationally, his face betraying no sign of the pain gnawing at his insides.

Clarke laughs warmly. ‘I must thank you for this body. So much better than my own, once it had become useless for my purposes.’

‘You knew,’ James says, understanding.

And it seems to him at that moment as if he is understanding more than the situation before him, as if he is seeing into the future for the first time with clarity. He will not see Jack again, and he will never know the outcome of the strange journey that brought him and Captain Jack Sparrow together. The thought of Jack is strengthening, somehow. The knowledge that he is not to see Jack again—there is no reason for that knowledge to exist, but he is convinced of it as much as of the lacerations on his back and the pain of death stealing over his whole body now—that knowledge is not enough to keep him from the realisation that he has some part to play in the tale yet; that his death, however imminent, will not—should not—be in vain.

‘Of course I knew, my boy. Why do you think I took such pains to remain in this body, even to the extent of trying to befriend dear Jack?’

‘When did you find out?’

Clarke laughs. ‘An age ago, Commodore. Before the woman who was to be my daughter and your grandmother was ever conceived. Why else would someone of my calibre enslave himself to Davy Jones? I needed to bide my time until I could perfect the incantation that would enable me to start afresh in a young, healthy body.’

He takes a step toward James, who does not move. The flat of Clarke’s sword slides under James’s chin, tilting his head back. ‘Little had I imagined that my own kin would prove so useful. Well, James? We’re both free now; free to choose our allegiances. Pick the ship that you prefer to die on, and I will take the other to my destination. I concede you that much.’

‘If it’s all the same to you,’ James says, ‘I’d rather stay on the _Pearl_.’ 

Clarke smiles. ‘So be it. I would strike you down now and ease your suffering, but there seems little point to it now that you are helpless to save yourself or your pirate.’

‘Stay away from him,’ James says, his voice soft with pain now, and the words seem ineffectual even to him.

‘Your bond with him really is quite touching, you know,’ Clarke says thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to die with him. If you manage to keep yourself alive until he catches up with us, as I have little doubt that he intends to do, I shall give you both the gratification of dying together.’

James slides to the floor, his back to the bars of the cell, and Clarke smiles triumphantly and sheaths his sword again. 

‘Doesn’t look like you’ll be that fortunate, after all,’ Clarke says.

 

\--

 

Jack wakes alone on the deck of the __Angeline__. He sits up and rests his back against the ship’s mainmast. 

It is cold now, and he can tell that night has fallen outside, even if here, in this damp, dark place in which he waits, there seems to be no difference between night and day, and the memory of the day he was chained to the mast of his own ship already seems distant. Not so the remembrance of the man who had knelt behind him and embraced his punishment willingly, wilfully. 

‘James, you fool,’ he had said, when he had been thinking the very opposite. _Jack, you fool, how can you be allowing this? On your own ship, your own Pearl_?

‘Shut up, Sparrow,’ James had said, every bit the Commodore at that moment, and _his_ James had been somewhere underneath, and it was his hands that had been gripping Jack’s waist, tightening as Jack heard the first blow fall. James’s sharp intake of breath had been the only sound to escape him, but it had sounded far louder to Jack than the crack of the whip. Jack has felt the lash more often than he cares to remember, but that that been the first time he’d heard it being administered to someone who could not have deserved it less.

He had braced himself for the both of them, acceding to James’s request—demand—that he stay silent. He had willed himself—willed them both—far away, to an island, perhaps, where there would be palm trees and clear ocean all around them. 

And he had apologised. With every lash of the whip he had apologised to James, the words ringing in his head even as his lips stayed sealed in acquiescence to James’s request. 

And now, there is nothing at all but the knowledge that he must wait, that James will be there, and the hope that they will both be saved.

 

\--

 

The soft rush of a mouse’s tail over his face tells him that he is still alive, although it seems clear that the creature itself believes him dead. 

It seems he is more pain than flesh now, every movement consuming precious seconds that take him closer to the inevitable. He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to raise himself to his hands and knees.

_This will never do, Norrington. A Commodore does not crawl around on his hands and knees, like a rum-pot deckhand who takes orders from pirates._

_On your feet, Norrington. On your feet, soldier._

Slowly, his hands press down against the floor beneath him, and he braces himself. The wood beneath his hands is his only support for several moments, and he rests the side of his face against the floor, soft whisperings in his ear. The ocean, translated for him through the hull of this ship he is on. What ship is it? Memory seems so terribly far away at the moment, so inaccessible.

_There was something I was supposed to do. If only the ocean weren’t roaring so loudly in my ears, I would remember._

There are strange memories crowding into his head now, images of people and places he has never seen. Church music sounding in his ears as he stands in the shadow of a cathedral, a man’s body twitching at the end of his sword. He pulls out his sword in a swift movement and the man falls to the ground and lies in a heap, unmoving.

_You must stand. You must walk, Norrington. One step, just one step at a time._

_If only I could tell where the pain stopped and my body began._

A woman, her beautiful face contorted with pain, her lips moving, pleading, saying something he cannot hear.

_Focus, Norrington. There was something… something I was supposed to… Not something, somewhere. Somewhere I was supposed to be._

_At this point, what difference could it possibly make? Darkness, so soft, so welcoming, wanting to embrace me. So cold._

He is looking down at an infant in a crib, filled with revulsion at the sight, and his fingers long to curl about the sleeping creature’s throat.

_Where is everyone? Surely a ship must have a crew. Really, Norrington. You ought to know where your own crew is. The Dauntless, this must be the Dauntless. What other ship could I possibly be on?_

His stomach retches in agony and bile rises in his throat, even as he tastes blood in his mouth.

_Dying. So this is what it feels like._

_Not yet, Norrington. Not yet._

He sees a pair of boots in front of him, and his eyes travel up the long legs attached to the boots, up to his own face staring down at him. The man possessing his body grasps him by the hair and pulls his head back, forcing him to arch his neck.

‘You just don’t give up, do you, James?’ Clarke says softly, almost in admiration. ‘Even Tia thought you were dead.’

James says nothing, consumed by the single thought that he must keep himself alive. 

_The boots._

_Every morning in Port Royal, Taylor polishes the boots and leaves them next to the bed. Every morning, I pull them on after I have worn my uniform, and the last thing I do—after I buckle on my sword—the last thing I do is slide my dirk into my right boot._

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Clarke continues conversationally. ‘I was hoping you’d still be alive. I’ve thought of a most interesting experiment.’ His hands grasp James’s forearms, and James finds himself forced to his feet. Rather than lean on Clarke for support, he lets his fingers clutch the bars of the cell behind him to help him stay on his feet.

‘My own words about your connection with Sparrow set me thinking. Remember I told you once that I could strike Jack Sparrow dead whenever I wished to? I think you were kept alive to help me accomplish that task, my boy.’

 _Hold on, James_. He feels rather than hears Jack’s voice in his ear, and imagines that unseen hands are gripping him from behind, supporting him. 

Clarke reaches out with one hand to grasp James’s wrist, his thumb pressing against the small fragment of jade, and Clarke’s other hand comes to rest on James’s chest, directly over his heart. 

Clarke’s fingertips dig into his flesh, and a flash of pain sears through his chest.

 

\--

 

Jack falls to his knees on the deck of the __Angeline__ , agony piercing through his chest as an invisible hand seems to clutch at his heart and begin to squeeze.

Jack moans as the invisible hand grips his heart like a vise, and twists viciously. 

 

\--

 

James gathers all his remaining strength and pulls his wrist away from Clarke’s grip even as he pushes himself backward, breaking the contact of Clarke’s hand over his heart. He cannot breathe now; it feels as if he has left his heart in Clarke’s grasp.

His back hits the bars of the cell behind him and he falls to his knees, his left hand grasping the right leg of the man in front of him, and Clarke looks down at him with something akin to pity. ‘Begging for your life, James? I would not have thought that of you. Or is it Jack’s life you plead for?’

‘Please,’ he whispers. _Anything, anything to distract him, to make him think I am broken._

‘I don’t think your pirate is quite finished yet, James,’ Clarke frowns, gripping James’s collar and preparing to pull him to his feet again.

James’s hand slides down Clarke’s leg to the familiar sheath stitched into his boot, his fingers closing around the reassuringly solid handle of his dirk. He pulls it out, even as his other hand reaches up to grasp the front of Clarke’s coat and pull him down.

Clarke lets out a shout of alarm and loses his footing, falling on top of James, on to the sharp point of the dirk, and the gleaming metal sinks into his stomach as he lands heavily on top of James. 

James feels the warm blood from his own body running down his fingers as Clarke goes limp on top of him. He cannot move now; he can do nothing. 

_Now?_

_Now may I let go?_

_Jack_ , he thinks, and lets go.


	24. Chapter 24

It has been two days in the cavern. There is still a dull throbbing in his chest from the attack two days ago, and Jack has little doubt that Clarke has been the cause. 

Or Tia.

Tia Dalma. How was it that she had been in Morant Bay, the most convenient port of stoppage before an Atlantic crossing? It couldn’t be clearer now.

And yet, she’d helped him. She’d brought him to Canna.

No, it was Clarke who’d responsible for the invisible attack. Jack could feel it in his gut. 

By this time he has explored what little of the cavern he is able to reach on foot, and there seems no place where any treasure might be hidden, or anything that looks like it might respond to any spell involving the use of a human heart. The __Angeline__ herself seems to be the only evidence of enchantments having been performed in the area, given her well-preserved state, but the fact that Jack can walk freely on the ship tells him that she does not seem likely to be hiding priceless treasures.

There is rum in her galley, and he has barely touched it.

 

\--

 

When it begins, it is with a whimper rather than a bang. At least at first.

He awakens on the deck of the __Angeline__ on the third morning, and wonders what has woken him. The ship herself is as quiet as ever, but he can feel her watchfulness, her awareness, that have allowed him some sleep over the past few nights.

‘What is it, lass?’ he whispers, opening his eyes, his body still, his hand pressed to the deck.

The soft swish of small oars against the water, coming closer. He crawls to the railing, keeping low, and peers over the edge.

‘Captain?’ An uncertain voice carries over the water as the boat draws closer to the _Angeline_ , and he starts at hearing the sound of another human voice.

‘Gibbs?’

‘Jack!’ Gibbs’s gleeful shout echoes around Jack.

He clambers down one of the _Angeline_ ’s mooring ropes, and helps pull the little rowboat on to the rocky shore at the edge of the water.

‘Lord sakes, Jack, you wouldn’t believe what’s been happening!’

‘What’s been happening, Gibbs?’ he asks quietly, urgently. He looks at the lump of cloth at the bottom of the boat, squinting in the semi-darkness. ‘Is that a person?’

‘The _Prince_ opened fire on us! We just barely managed to get ahead, Jack. Zima’s on his way. You have—’

There is a soft groan from the boat, and Anamaria lifts her head. ‘Give us a hand before you tell the story, Mr Gibbs.’ The tone of her voice tells Jack instantly that she is injured, perhaps grievously.

‘I’ve got you, Ana.’ Jack is at the boat in a second, gathering his First Mate into his arms and setting her down on a soft, dry patch of sand away from the edge of the water. 

‘First things first,’ he says quickly, looking up at Gibbs. ‘No, Anamaria, I’m talking. Gibbs, where is the _Pearl_?’

‘Taking a turn ‘round the island, Cap’n. We couldn’t moor her. Zima’ll blow her to bits if she’s there when he arrives.’

‘Barbossa?’

‘Gone, Cap’n. He—’

‘How did you get in here?’

‘There’s a passage coming in from the south side, Cap’n. Great big hole, visible plain as day.’

‘Right. Go back there and wait. Give us a shout the moment you catch sight of the _Prince_.’

‘Aye, Cap’n.’

Jack barely notices as Gibbs rows away, his attention back on Anamaria. 

‘Where are you hurt?’

‘My shoulder.’

‘What happened?’

‘Zima attacked,’ she says simply. ‘We took a fair beating, Jack. But the _Pearl_ could outsail the _Prince_ , and here we are.’

‘Where’s the Commodore?’

‘He’s—he nearly killed Clarke. I saw it happening, Jack. We were there, in the cell behind them. We couldn’t move… Clarke did some spell on us… All of us… me, an’ Gibbs, and Marty, and Mr Cotton, and even Mr Cotton’s parrot, and—’

‘Ana,’ Jack says, teeth gritted. ‘Tell me what happened. James nearly killed Clarke?’

‘Clarke was… doing something. Some terrible spell. He had his hand on the Commodore’s chest. The Commodore… he was fairly done in. But he stabbed Clarke with a knife, and I thought Clarke was dead.’ She closes her eyes and leans back wearily against the rock behind her back, and Jack waits, letting her rest.

‘He’s dead, Jack. I’m sorry, I couldn’t… I couldn’t do anything, Jack.’

Jack frowns. ‘I thought you said Clarke didn’t die?’

‘Not Clarke,’ she whispers, opening her eyes, the pupils darker than anything Jack has ever seen. 

There seems to be a corresponding darkness somewhere deep inside him, growing larger by the second, and far more paralysing than the death-grip he had felt on his heart two days previously. He remains kneeling by Anamaria’s side, frozen, paralysed by the inescapable truth he can see in her eyes. 

She finally looks away, her eyes staring out on to the dark water, even as her hand falls on Jack’s arm to grip it tightly.

‘Barbossa found them both outside the cell,’ she continues softly, her face turned toward the dark ocean. ‘Clarke was hurt bad, but he was alive. Barbossa put him over his shoulder and went off. The Commodore… Tyler and his men came and took his—took him away.’

The splashing of oars sounds again, and Jack’s eyes helplessly follow the sound to see the small shape of the rowboat against the water.

He turns back to Anamaria to clutch at her arm. ‘Ana—are you sure about this? Tia didn’t—she didn’t switch their bodies back?’

Anamaria shakes her head wearily. ‘No, Jack. Clarke was in the Commodore’s body, all right. He was doing a spell,’ she reminds him gently, and Jack feels his final shred of hope fall away from beneath him.

‘Cap’n, Zima’s in sight! He’s reaching!’ Gibbs gasps, bringing the boat in. 

Jack covers his eyes with a shaking hand, and thoughts try to claw their way into his blank mind. 

‘Cap’n?’ Gibbs says urgently, and Anamaria gives Gibbs a look to silence him.

Jack’s hand moves from his forehead down his face, pressing down tightly over his mouth for a moment before it falls away.

He gets to his feet then, quickly. ‘Gibbs, I saw a small cave earlier—over there, behind those rocks. Get Ana there, quick.’

‘Jack—’

‘Not a word, Ana,’ he says sharply. ‘You’ll be safe there. Gibbs, get _moving_!’

‘Aye, Cap’n!’

As Gibbs helps Anamaria to safety, Jack drags the small rowboat away from the shore and pushes it out of sight underneath a rocky ledge.

‘Has Zima caught sight of the _Pearl_?’ he calls to Gibbs, panting with the exertion of pushing the boat.

‘Don’t think so, Cap’n. She’s safely out of sight, methinks.’

‘Stay out of—’

Jack stops in mid-sentence as a sharp crack sounds from behind him, so much like a gunshot that he ducks his head involuntarily. He turns around to see a jagged crack forming itself rapidly on the surface of the rocky ground, moving rapidly toward the wall of rock behind him and Gibbs.

‘Move!’ he screams, throwing himself at Gibbs and pushing him out of the way as rocks begin to tumble from the roof of the cavern. Leaving Gibbs to get his breath back, he races to the small cave where Anamaria is trying unsuccessfully to pull herself to her feet.

‘Jack—what’s happening?’

‘I don’t know, Ana.’ He looks up at the roof of the cave, which seems solid enough at the moment. 

Gibbs comes in as well, holding a hand against the back of his head. ‘I’m bleedin’!’ he moans. Jack does not ask if the wound has been caused by a falling rock, or by his tackling the man to the ground.

‘Stay here, both of you.’

Without waiting for a response, he goes back outside. There are hundreds of cracks along the wall of the cavern now, but the largest of them is on the massive roof. Even as Jack watches, it begins to part like the two halves of an eggshell, and for a wild moment he is reminded of breaking eggs into the pan in the house in Morant Bay. 

Sunlight streams in from the cracked roof of the cavern in a sudden instant, a moment before an avalanche of rocks begins to tumble from the sky, and Jack throws himself back toward the mouth of the cave, scrambling in on his hands and knees.

‘Gibbs, Ana, we have to move, or we’ll be buried alive in here.’

Ana nods calmly and holds an arm up to Jack, and he sweeps her up into his arms. The shelter of the cave is tempting, but he resolutely turns his back on it and carries her out of the cave.

‘Where will we go, Jack?’ she whispers, her jaw clenched with pain.

‘The ship!’ Jack says the words before he knows the answer to her question, and when he approaches the shore, he knows that he is right. The protection that Clarke must have placed on the _Angeline_ seems to have kept her intact, at least for the time being.

He wades out to the ship, and puts Anamaria on her feet in the waist-deep water. 

‘I can’t climb, Jack,’ she whispers, looking up at the rigging that covers the side of the ship.

‘You don’t have to, Ana. Just hold on.’ He places one of her feet securely in a loop of rope at the bottom of the rigging, and then hoists her body up by holding her around the waist. She holds on with her good arm, and he climbs up beside her and puts an arm around her waist for support, holding on tightly to the ropes with one hand. 

Gibbs climbs up on Anamaria’s other side, and all three of them keep their faces turned to the side of the great ship, expecting a slab of rock from above to come crashing down on their heads at any moment, but the _Angeline_ is clearly safe amidst the havoc that is being wreaked around her.

Jack clings to the _Angeline_ with all his strength, the arm around Ana feeling as if it will pop out of its socket at any moment, wondering when his strength will give out. It is several minutes before he feels the ship buck excitedly as a strong wind blows over them, and he realises that there is silence now, but for the sound of the ocean. 

All that is left of the cavern is the high, rocky wall behind the ship, and great slabs of rock jutting out of the water around them. He helps Anamaria down and guides her to the surface of a relatively smooth chunk of rock, where she sits down shakily. 

‘Jack—my god.’ She looks around at the scene before them, eyes wide with amazement. ‘It’s _gone_.’

Before either of her companions can respond, a great grey ship emerges from around the corner of the high wall toward the east, from where Jack had dived into the cavern. The _Prince_ is forced to stop beyond the rock fall, unable to manoeuvre itself through the debris of the roof of the cavern that litters the surface of the water in the cove.

Jack stands beside the _Angeline_ and watches as rowboats are lowered from the ship, and begin to make their way close. There are six people in the boat that leads the others, including Zima, Tyler and Tia.

Zima steps lightly out of the boat on to a mostly-submerged rock and begins walking toward Jack, stepping sure-footedly over the debris, and for a moment it seems almost as if he is walking on the surface of the water, his lips curved into a thin smile. In his left hand is something that looks like a large diamond, glittering in the light of the sun.

‘Wait here,’ Jack says quietly to his crew members. He wades out of the water until he is on firmer ground, and waits.

Tyler has followed suit behind Zima, less sure-footedly but with huge strides, dragging Tia by one arm. It is only as they draw closer that Jack sees that her arms are bound behind her, and that her mouth has a cloth bound over it.

‘Well, Captain Sparrow,’ Zima smiles as he approaches Jack. ‘Did you enjoy the show?’ He shakes his head wonderingly. ‘You do have a propensity to survive. I’m very impressed.’

Jack looks at Tia. ‘The spell?’

She nods.

‘Yes, my dear boy, the spell,’ Zima smiles, gesturing with his hand, and Jack sees that the object he is clutching is a human heart. Its redness is barely visible beneath the glow of the spell that surrounds it.

‘Who would have thought that such a little thing would cause such a miracle?’ Zima goes on with barely restrained excitement, his tiny eyes greedily fixed on the _Angeline_. 

He turns to Tia. ‘Well, witch? Is this the storehouse of what we seek?’

She nods again, and Zima laughs with delight.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he barks at Tyler. ‘Get that ship ready to sail! Clear a path through these damned rocks!’

His men hurry to follow his orders, and Zima rips off Tia’s gag. ‘If you begin to mutter a spell, I will rip your throat before the words leave your filthy mouth. Tell me where on board the stone is.’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispers hoarsely. ‘You can kill me, but I won’t be able to tell you.’

Zima takes a step toward her, and for a moment Jack thinks he is going to strike her. ‘No matter,’ Zima says softly. ‘You will tell me eventually.’

‘Captain?’ one of Zima’s men asks timidly, keeping well away from his Captain.

‘What is it?’ Zima says genially enough, eyes on the _Angeline_ again, a flurry of activity visible on her deck now as Zima’s men prepare her.

‘What do you want us to do with the body, Captain?’

Zima waves a careless hand. ‘Discard it. I’ve no further use for it.’

Jack watches as two of Zima’s men push a dead man out of one of the rowboats into the water, where he floats facedown.

‘Surely you have something to say, Jack, after all that you’ve witnessed?’ Zima says in amusement.

Jack shrugs. ‘Not particularly, no.’

‘I would have wished for you to witness the effects of the new power that I’ll possess shortly,’ Zima smiles. ‘You and your dauntless young Commodore.’ He spares a glance for the body floating in the water. ‘Is that him over there, or is that Clarke?’ He laughs. ‘Your expression is answer enough.’

He gives Jack a long, thoughtful look. ‘What happened to your ship? Did she sink with all the holes my _Prince_ blew into her?’

Jack shrugs wordlessly, and Zima lets out another of his high-pitched laughs. ‘You seem to be marooned yet again, then. Well, Jack, fear not. I shall not add to your misery. You are welcome to spend your few remaining days in the company of your lover’s corpse.’

Jack, Gibbs and Anamaria spend the next few hours among the rocks at the shore, bound hand and foot, as Zima’s crew blast many of the rocks out of the water to make way for the _Angeline_. 

After Clarke’s ship has finally raised anchor and sailed away with the _Prince_ , Jack wriggles over to Gibbs and works on the ropes around Gibbs’s hands with his teeth until they fall away. 

‘All right, Anamaria?’ he asks as Gibbs unties him. She nods weakly, and Jack helps Gibbs to untie her before helping her to rest against a section of the wall that still appears relatively safe. 

‘Rest, Ana,’ he says gently, resting a hand briefly on her head for a moment. She closes her eyes wearily, and Jack takes Gibbs aside. ‘Find the _Pearl_. Climb to the top and go across the island, it’ll be faster. She must be on the other side.’

‘Aye, Cap’n.’

It is only after he is sure that Gibbs has found a safe path to climb to the top that he turns back to the ocean, wading into the water until he reaches the body floating there. The man’s shirt moves over his back with the gentle waves at the water’s edge, briefly revealing red welts and torn skin. He gently grips the dead man under the arms and pulls him out of the water. 

He finds a soft patch of sand well away from the water and, using a sharp piece of rock, digs a shallow grave. It is only when he has dragged the dead man to his resting place and rolled him into the grave that he lets his eyes fall on the still face, and sees that the eyes are half-open. He closes them with his hand, turning his own eyes away from the mutilated chest. 

Once he has covered the dead man with sand, he begins covering the grave with the flattest rocks that he can find. When the grave is covered securely, he begins to turn away. His eyes are drawn to something small glittering in the sand, and he kneels to pick up the little piece of jade on its worn thread. 

He looks back at the grave, hesitating for a moment, and then turns back to the ocean again, watching for the _Pearl_.


	25. Chapter 25

_Why doesn’t she come?_

He has looked to the ocean for the _Pearl_ before, when she has been in another’s hands. When she has not been with him in the past, he has travelled without her to distant lands, but always with her in his heart, always looking to the day when he will be at her helm again.

Until this day, she has been the only thing that Jack has loved and lost, and losing her, when it has happened, has always been accompanied by the certainty that he will find her again. 

He can bear no such hope for the man he has just buried.

He retreats to the grave and sits beside the place where he has laid Clarke’s body to rest. An enemy’s body it may be, but for a few precious weeks it had been home to James’s spirit.

A low laugh, a smile reaching up into his eyes. _You’re going to miss this earring, aren’t you, Jack?_

Pulling his hat over his eyes in the cell, unaware that those were to be their last few moments together. _I forgot you aren’t very good at passing tests, Commodore._

He had passed; he had passed all the brutal tests he had been forced into ever since that day he had been shot in the street in front of Jack’s eyes.

And he had saved them both in his dying moments. For Jack is certain that the spell that Anamaria had witnessed Clarke performing was none other than the very one that had almost claimed his life, and that James had known. He had known that it was not only his life at stake, but Jack’s as well, and he had ensured that Clarke did not finish the murderous spell.

_I failed you, James._

He wraps his arms around his knees, shivering. _If only I hadn’t let Tia do that spell. If only I’d been able to stop Zima from taking him, that day in Port Royal. If only Barbossa’d never heard about the damned treasure. If only, if only, if only._ He gasps for breath as frantic hands seem to tear at him from the inside, begging him to undo what cannot be undone.

He tries to burrow his head into his arms, his body rocking, trying to comfort itself even as it is splayed apart by grief, and he knows he will never be whole again.

He raises his head, his face turned to the sky as rain begins to fall, stinging his cheeks and smearing the kohl around his eyes. Worn black sails appear in sight, and he stumbles to his feet and into the sea.


	26. Chapter 26

‘We sailing right into the harbour, Jack?’ Anamaria asks quietly when Port Royal is within sight of the _Pearl_ , standing by Jack’s side as the ship gets ever closer to the coastline.

‘The usual cove, I think,’ Jack says. ‘I’m sure the good Governor Swann knows I don’t mean his town any harm, but I wouldn’t put it past the Navy to train their cannons on us.’

‘Right you are, Captain.’ Anamaria sounds more than a little relieved. Before either she or Jack can steer the ship in the direction of her usual safe cove, however, it becomes all too apparent that their course is soon to be intercepted by a rather large navy blue bulk that is headed in their direction.

‘The _Endeavour_ ,’ Jack says evenly, looking through his spyglass. He trains his glass on the tall figure standing beside the helm of the other ship, and a hot surge of rage runs through his body. He firmly squashes the pang of anticipation that arises inside him at the thought of being face to face with James again. Recalling the mutilated and lifeless body he has left at the gravesite in Canna takes but a second, but composing himself takes several more moments.

‘Clarke’s on board,’ he says finally, amazed at how steady his voice sounds.

‘Jack—’ Anamaria begins in alarm.

‘Don’t worry, Ana,’ he says quickly. ‘I’ll behave myself, if he does.’

He watches through the glass as Clarke gets into a rowboat with several men, and calmly orders that they be allowed on board the _Pearl_ without being molested.

He peers over the bulwark and calls down to Clarke. ‘You and your men may come aboard, but leave your weapons in the boat, if you please.’

‘As you wish, Mister Sparrow,’ Clarke smirks. Jack steps back without bothering to respond, and stands his ground, willing himself to remain composed, as Clarke steps on to the deck before him.

‘To what do we owe the pleasure of your return, Sparrow?’ Clarke says with extreme politeness. Jack notes with grim satisfaction that he is favouring his right side, and that the injury that James inflicted on him is not quite healed yet.

‘Oh, you know,’ Jack shrugs. ‘Couldn’t stay away from the bonnie Caribbean, and all that.’

‘I’ll have you know that I have apprised Governor Swann of the situation, and that he agrees that our temporary truce with you can regrettably no longer be maintained.’

‘Oh?’ Jack says with supreme indifference. ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting me to turn around and sail the other way, then? Or did you have a hanging in mind?’

‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you hang from the gallows, Sparrow, but the Governor has insisted that you be let off with a warning, just this once,’ Clarke says, extreme regret in his voice.

‘Ah. You be sure to convey my thanks to the good Governor, then.’ Jack tilts his head toward the ship in the background. ‘Made a little pact with the Company, have we?’

Clarke smirks again. ‘You are certainly observant, Sparrow. Yes, I’m happy to inform you that I’ve been offered a commission as an Admiral in the East India Company’s esteemed fleet, and that I will be taking up my new position very shortly.’

Jack’s façade drops for a moment, and he clenches his hands in fury, willing himself to remain calm. Taking a deep breath, he raises his eyebrows in mild interest. ‘I heard it said that there was no love lost between Commodore Norrington and Lord Beckett, as it were.’

‘ _Commodore_ Norrington may have thought differently once, Sparrow, but he’s had a change of _heart_ recently,’ Clarke says, grinning.

Jack’s fist collides with Clarke’s jaw, sending him reeling to the deck of the _Pearl_.

In a flash, two of Clarke’s men seize Jack and hold him in a vise-like grip, his arms twisted behind his back. Gibbs mutters something under his breath, but the _Pearl_ ’s crew holds back, waiting. 

Clarke gets to his feet slowly, one hand clutching his right side. ‘I could have you hanged for that alone,’ he says, swiping a hand over the trickle of blood from his mouth.

‘Then why don’t you?’ Jack snaps, his eyes blazing.

‘Oh, I’m a merciful man, Mister Sparrow. Also, I have a feeling we could be of use to each other.’

Jack determinedly ignores the painful grasp of the hands holding his arms pinned behind him. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘Come along quietly with me, Sparrow, and I’ll tell you.’

‘And my crew?’

‘Can leave unscathed.’

Jack’s gaze meets the cool green eyes evenly, and he nods. Time to get this over with.

‘Excellent.’ Clarke nods to his men, one of whom steps toward Jack with a pair of manacles.

‘Cap’n,’ Gibbs begins in protest, stepping forward.

‘Hold your peace, Mister Gibbs,’ Jack says steadily, his eyes on Clarke’s face. He feels a familiar thrill as Clarke’s hand grasps his elbow firmly, and he forces himself to push aside the involuntary shiver of response that his body feels at the touch of the hand that had once belonged to James.

Shaking his arm free of Clarke’s grip, he rests his hand casually on the hilt of his sword. ‘I’ll speak with you as a free man, Cl—Commodore, and under the terms of parley.’

Clarke looks at him for a long moment, dropping his eyes to Jack’s sword, all too aware that he and his men are unarmed, and Jack and his crew are not.

‘Very well. Accompany us now, then, as a free man.’

‘I’m not setting foot on your ship, _Admiral_. I’ll meet you at your fancy fort in an hour.’

‘So be it.’ Clarke turns on his heel and departs, and Jack lets out his breath.

‘You sure you know what you’re doin’, Jack?’ Gibbs says anxiously at his shoulder.

‘I was never less sure of anything in my life, Mr Gibbs.’ Jack turns away and moves to steer his ship toward the harbour, and toward his impending confrontation with Captain Clarke.


	27. Chapter 27

‘You’re late,’ Clarke comments as Jack walks into the Commodore’s office, and Jack smiles savagely to see that he is having his wound dressed.

‘I’m sure the sight of this infernal wound pleases you,’ Clarke says evenly, looking down as the Navy surgeon bandages his side.

‘You have no idea how much,’ Jack says pleasantly, looking around. James’s office is much the same as it had been during his previous visit. Books line the wall, and several more are piled neatly on the desk. Above the desk is a painting of a galleon, and Jack keeps his eyes fixed on it as the doctor finishes his task and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Clarke adjusts his shirt and pulls on his waistcoat. ‘Alone at last.’ The smile on his face is so ingenuous and beguiling that Jack looks quickly away again.

‘Why this charade, Clarke? What do you hope to gain from impersonating James?’

‘I’m quite good at it, don’t you think?’ Clarke says softly, coming around the desk to stand in front of Jack.

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ Jack takes a step back, but finds Clarke’s hand around his wrist in a firm grip.

Jack twists his wrist out of Clarke’s grasp. ‘You’re an abomination, Clarke. Touch me again and you’ll be missing a hand, I promise you that.’

An instant later, he finds himself thrown on to the desk, books and papers flying everywhere as Clarke stands over him, smiling triumphantly. He flicks his fingers and Jack finds chains snaking around his limbs, binding him on his back to the table. The bolt on the door slides home of its own accord, locking them both inside the office.

‘You forget who I am, my dear boy.’ Clarke settles himself comfortably on the desk next to Jack’s head, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down at his captive with amusement.

‘All right, I’m listening.’ Jack forces himself to lie still, looking up at the entrancing eyes staring down at him. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘At this juncture, I daresay you’re quite helpless to prevent me from taking whatever I want from you,’ Clarke says thoughtfully. ‘I don’t need to bind you to keep you immobile, of course, but it pleases me to see you in chains.’

‘Happy to be of service. Can we get to the point now, please?’

‘And I’m quite happy to oblige, Jack.’ Clarke smiles and touches a fingertip to Jack’s bare chest, and Jack gasps as white-hot pain explodes under his skin. Clarke’s finger moves leisurely up to Jack’s throat, dragging the pain with it, and Jack clenches his teeth to keep from moaning at the sensation of having the inside of his skin branded with a smouldering poker.

‘I trust I have your attention now.’ Clarke removes the finger and taps it against his own cheek. Jack remains quiet, his body going limp with relief as the pain stops.

‘Tell me where Zima took my ship,’ Clarke says pleasantly.

‘I have no idea.’ 

Clarke laughs softly. ‘Surely you don’t expect me to believe that. Perhaps you need a little more persuasion.’

‘If you think pain will make me reveal something I don’t know, Clarke, then you’re even more of a fool than I think you are.’

‘Oh, I happen to know that pain can work wonders. It’s quite an art, you know. Inflicting the kind of pain that can loosen a man’s tongue; or indeed, a woman’s. There is pain’—he touches his fingertip over Jack’s heart, making him clench his eyes shut—‘and then there is pain, Jack.’ 

‘Open your eyes, Jack.’ The finger moves away, and Jack opens his eyes.

_Oh, Christ._

He is standing in the brig of the _Pearl_ , grinding his own hand on to James’s chest. James is gripping the bars of the cell behind him, staying on his feet as his body shudders under the pain. Jack realises that he is watching Clarke’s final spell on the _Pearl_ from Clarke’s own point of view. He looks on with horrified fascination as James manages to pull himself away and falls to the floor, his back against the bars, his body all but lifeless.

The vision dissipates and Jack finds himself looking up into Clarke’s face again. 

‘Not painful enough?’ Clarke smiles. His hand descends over Jack’s eyes, clamping them shut.

He is back in the boat with James, after the only night they’d spent together. James lifts his head from Jack’s bare chest, allowing Jack to pull his head down to capture his mouth in a kiss that overwhelms them both.

‘Please,’ Jack whispers, and finds himself back on the table, his eyes stinging as he forces himself to look up at Clarke again.

‘Please what, love?’ Clarke murmurs in James’s voice, his hand caressing Jack’s hair.

Jack does not respond, his senses befuddled by what Clarke is doing, unsure of where he is and who is speaking to him.

The hand stroking his hair curls and grips, yanking Jack’s head back painfully. 

‘Had enough?’ Clarke says, his voice hard.

‘What can you possibly be gaining from this?’ Jack whispers.

‘Tell me what I need to know, Jack, and I’ll make it stop.’

‘I don’t know where Zima is,’ Jack says through gritted teeth, his head still wrenched back by Clarke’s hand.

‘Very well, then.’ Clarke releases Jack’s head and stands. 

Jack feels the chains vanish as suddenly as they had appeared. He slides off the desk and forces himself to remain on his feet, furious with himself to realise that he is shaking, the scarf over his forehead damp with sweat.

Clarke smiles at him and Jack knows that he is still very much a prisoner. 

‘Perhaps a few more hours of reliving some memories will make you reveal what I need to know,’ his captor says.

 

\--

 

He spends the next two days in a cell at the fort, his arms chained above his head for the most part. 

Clarke visits him occasionally to play with his mind, forcing him to relive moments that he and James had shared, interspersed with the scene of James’s last moments before his death. It is clear that Clarke seems aware that memories of James are far more painful to Jack than physical agony, and he keeps the latter as merely a means of amusement for himself. 

Jack does not ask him to stop, does not say a word except to repeat that he is unaware of Zima’s whereabouts.

Perhaps the worst of it is that Clarke plays James to perfection. Every time he enters the cell, he is James at first, holding Jack, stroking his face, begging him to tell Clarke what he knows, before he laughs and drops the façade. 

By the end of the second day, Jack knows he is nearing the end of his tether, both physically and in his mind. He hears the key turn in the lock and raises his head, trying to gather every ounce of his strength.

This time, Clarke does not seem to want to bother with games. ‘Are you responsible for what’s happening?’ he asks in a low, furious whisper.

‘What’s happening?’ Jack asks wearily, not particularly interested in the answer.

Clarke backhands him across the mouth, hard. ‘Don’t play games with me, Sparrow.’

Jack tastes blood and swallows the bile rising in his throat, his stomach churning with emptiness and rapidly increasing exhaustion. ‘’Sfunny, I thought you were the one doing the playing.’

‘You knew,’ Clarke whispers. ‘You knew all along this was going to happen.’

‘’Msorry, mate, but you aren’t making any sense.’

Clarke steps close to Jack, his hands clenched tightly into fists. ‘Make it stop, or I will tear you apart.’

‘Make _what_ stop?’ Jack snaps, irritation giving him momentary strength. ‘Get a grip on yourself, Clarke.’

Clarke lets out a gasp and falls to his knees in front of Jack. ‘You’re a dead man, Sparrow,’ he spits, before falling forward on his face and going very still.

Jack tightens his hands over the chains holding him prisoner. ‘Clarke?’ he says impatiently. ‘This isn’t funny. I concede, all right? Get yourself up. I’ll take you to Zima.’

Clarke does not call his bluff, and Jack sighs with fatigue. _More games. Christ, how much more of this can I take?_

Clarke stirs at his feet, and Jack resists the urge to kick him. 

He watches as Clarke groans and pulls himself into a sitting position against the wall, a shaking hand over his eyes. 

‘Feeling better?’ Jack asks sardonically, curious despite himself to see what Clarke has come up with this time.

Clarke drops his hand into his lap, looking up at Jack. ‘Sparrow?’ he murmurs. ‘What—what on earth is going on?’

Jack shrugs as best he can, considering that his arms are chained. ‘You tell me, mate. It’s your game, not mine.’

‘Where are we?’ Clarke looks around, seeming bemused. ‘Is this the fort?’

‘Well worked out,’ Jack sneers. ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting me to tell you your name, next?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sparrow,’ Clarke snaps, pulling himself to his feet and leaning heavily against the wall. ‘How did we get here?’ he asks.

‘Look, Clarke, this is getting old really quick. Not to mention it’s bloody boring, savvy?’

Clarke sighs. ‘I know I’m going to regret asking you this, but what do you mean by addressing me as ‘Clarke’?’

‘I’ve had it with your games, Clarke. Kill me and be done with it, if you like. But I’m not playing anymore.’

‘You’re madder than I thought, Sparrow,’ Clarke says in apparent bemusement, turning away from Jack. 

‘I mean it, Clarke.’ Jack feels cold fury inside him now, and he yanks furiously at his chains. ‘Shut the hell up. Or go away. Or kill me. Anything. Anything but these bloody games.’

Clarke turns to him again, frowning. ‘All right, Sparrow. It really does seem as if you’re as confused as I am. Forgive me, but I am not accustomed to waking up a prisoner in my own cells, with no memory of how I got here. Not to mention not having the faintest idea why I’m locked up with you, of all people.’

Jack stares at him, registering something for the first time. There is an utter lack of malice in Clarke’s tone, something that Jack has never heard his voice without. Even when he has played James in his sadistic games, there has been an undercurrent of malevolence in his voice. Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, that edge seems to have vanished from his tone.

‘You aren’t locked up,’ Jack says slowly. ‘The key’s in the lock.’

Clarke looks at him in surprise, and goes over to the door, still seeming a little shaky on his feet. ‘You’re right,’ he says, looking back toward Jack, still seeming bewildered.

‘Course I am. Now go on, get out of here. You’re getting on my nerves.’

Clarke pauses with his hand on the key, and then lets his hand drop. ‘What’s going on, Sparrow? How did we get here?’

Jack groans, fighting back his weariness. ‘Are your brains really addled? You locked me in here, wanting to know where Zima is.’

‘Zima?’ Clarke says blankly.

‘Aye. Zima. Zee-ma.’ Jack draws the name out slowly, wondering if Clarke has managed to scramble his own brains with one of his insane spells.

‘Zima? The pirate? Captain of the _Prince_?’

‘The very same. Full marks to you, Clarke. You go to the top of the class.’

‘What does Zima have to do with us being here?’ Clarke asks slowly, his eyes fixed on Jack’s face.

‘If you want someone to tell you a story, ask your mate Barbossa,’ Jack says in disgust. ‘I don’t know what you’ve done to yourself, or if this is another of your sick games.’

‘ _My_ mate Barbossa?’ Clarke looks frankly astonished now. 

‘Aye, your partner in crime, so to speak. Whatever happened to him, anyway?’

‘My partner in—Sparrow, for pity’s sake, don’t fuck with my head.’

‘ _I’m_ fucking with _your_ head?’ Jack laughs helplessly, his head spinning. ‘I’ll have to hand it to you, Clarke. You’re good at this. Bloody good.’

Clarke steps in front of Jack and grasps the front of his shirt. ‘Kindly desist from calling me Clarke, if you aren’t going to explain what you mean by it.’

Jack tries to pull away, but the hand gripping his shirt tightens, holding him in place. ‘That’s your name, mate. You seem to know who you are, so don’t tell me you don’t know your name. Or did you get the terms of your little game confused in your head?’

Clarke drops his hand in astonishment. ‘My name, as you well know, Sparrow, is not Clarke. And yet you seem insistent on calling me that.’

‘Oh, aye?’ Jack says tonelessly, knowing he is on the verge of giving in to his exhaustion. ‘What might your name be, then? Merlin, perhaps?’

‘Norrington,’ Clarke snaps. ‘As you well know, Sparrow, although for some unfathomable reason you seem to be pretending you don’t.’

‘You’re sicker than I thought, Clarke,’ Jack says in absolute revulsion.

‘And you, as I already seem to have mentioned, are more insane than I ever thought.’ Clarke turns away, seemingly as disgusted as Jack himself is feeling. He takes a step toward the door, and then gasps and falls to his knees.

‘What now?’ Jack says resignedly. Clarke does not respond. He curls up on his side, his arms wrapped around his head, his body shuddering for a few moments before going still, as before.

Jack stares, completely mystified by the strange turn Clarke’s game seems to have taken. 

He waits, surprising himself with how patient he is being. _As if I actually have a choice in the matter._

Sure enough, Clarke wakes again in a few minutes, clutching his head. He glares up at Jack. ‘He was here, wasn’t he?’

‘Who in the name of blazes are you talking about?’

‘My great-grandson, of course.’ Clarke groans and pulls himself to his feet, shaking. He staggers to Jack and pulls his head back by the hair, hard. ‘What did he tell you?’

‘Lemme go, you madman.’ Jack struggles in Clarke’s grip, but the hold on his hair is unrelenting.

‘Tell me what he said.’

‘He told me where Zima is,’ Jack says, saying the first thing that enters his head.

‘He did?’ Clarke says, letting Jack go in his astonishment.

‘Aye. Lemme out of these chains, and I’ll tell you where to find your ship.’

Clarke’s eyes narrow. ‘You’re lying to me, you scoundrel.’ His fist connects with Jack’s ribs, knocking him back against the wall.

Jack groans. ‘Can you switch back to playing James for a bit? At least he doesn’t use his fists so much.’

As if on cue, Clarke goes pale. ‘It’s happening again.’ He grabs the front of Jack’s shirt. ‘Tell me how to stop it!’

Jack stares wordlessly at him, his mind suddenly wiped of thought, as he watches Clarke step back and convulse. Gasping, Clarke crawls to the door on his hands and knees, wrenches the key out of the lock, and throws it outside the cell. ‘He’s not getting out of this cell,’ he says with grim, determined satisfaction, before collapsing at Jack’s feet. 

He seems to stay almost entirely conscious this time, his eyes closed but his voice muttering something Jack cannot make out. After several moments, he lifts his head and looks at Jack.

‘Is this some kind of dream?’ he says hoarsely, more to himself than to Jack.

‘I—I don’ know.’ Jack stays very still, watching the man on the floor. 

The other man nods, rubbing his eyes wearily. ‘I don’t believe you do, any more than I do.’

‘Where were you? Just now? Before you woke up?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t remember. If this is a dream, then I must be somewhere else. But I don’t know where.’

‘This is no dream, mate. It’s real, savvy? You’re real, this cell is real, I’m real.’

‘What are you doing here, then?’

‘I’m a prisoner, mate.’

‘And what am I doing here?’

‘You—depends on who you are, I suppose.’ Jack is speaking automatically now, saying the first things that come into his head, not thinking of what might be happening.

‘Sparrow, for heaven’s sake, don’t start with that again.’

Jack wets his suddenly parched lips with his tongue. ‘Commodore?’

‘Yes, Sparrow?’

‘Holy fuck,’ Jack whispers. Where his mind was blank a moment ago, it is now filled with hundreds of thoughts jostling for space inside his head.

‘If you have something constructive to say, for god’s sake, say it.’ Jack’s companion forces himself with apparent difficulty to his hands and knees, clutching at Jack’s leg for support, and then pulls himself to his knees.

Jack stays stock still as the other man pushes himself to his feet. ‘Lean on me for a bit, Commodore,’ he finds himself saying. ‘It’s all right. Just… easy. Just lean on me.’

His companion obeys shakily, letting his forehead rest against Jack’s shoulder for a moment. 

‘Oh, _fuck_ ,’ Jack whispers furiously, screwing his eyes tightly shut as the other man steadies himself with his hands on Jack’s waist.

‘Are you all right, Sparrow?’ He pulls back, seeming a little less unsteady now.

‘Sparrow?’

‘No,’ Jack says through clenched teeth. ‘No, I’m bloody well not all right.’


	28. Chapter 28

James looks at Sparrow in frustration. ‘What’s wrong? What _else_ is wrong?’

The pirate shakes his head. ‘Never you mind, Commodore. I’m just rambling.’ 

James looks more closely at Sparrow for the first time that day, and decides that the other man definitely does not look well. He looks down for a moment at the small trickle of blood running out of the corner of Sparrow’s mouth. ‘Who did this to you?’ he asks.

‘I’m in your fort, mate,’ Sparrow says, his face against his arm, his voice muffled.

‘Are you saying I’m responsible for your being in this state?’ James asks, appalled.

‘What state is that, exactly?’ Sparrow says, his eyes fathomlessly dark and inscrutable.

‘You’ve obviously been… mistreated,’ James says slowly. 

‘Oh, I probably deserved it, wouldn’t you say?’ the pirate says lightly.

James gives up and moves away from the prisoner. ‘The key’s no longer there,’ he observes, raising his eyebrows.

‘You don’t say.’

‘What happened?’

‘Can’t rightly say, mate.’

James clenches his hands around the bars of the cell in frustration, willing himself to remain calm. ‘Sparrow,’ he begins through gritted teeth, ‘I beg you, try to ensure that at least one in every three sentences of yours bears some semblance of reason.’

Sparrow lifts a shoulder carelessly, his chains clinking. ‘Whatever you say, Commodore.’

James sits down on the floor, aware of the pain in his side and the fact that there is a bandage under his shirt, as well as a dull throbbing in his back, testifying to yet another injury. ‘How did I get these wounds?’ He looks up at his companion. ‘Do you know?’

‘Aye. You were shot in the back, and stabbed in the gut pretty deep, as far as what I heard.’

‘Please tell me how we came to be here,’ James says quietly, praying for a coherent response.

Sparrow sighs softly. ‘What’s the last thing ye remember?’

‘Being in my office, I think… a regular working day… paperwork.’

‘What date was that? Do ye know?’

‘Sometime in November… I can’t recall the exact date.’

‘It’s March now, Commodore.’

James stares at him. ‘You’re not joking.’

‘No.’

James groans and leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes briefly. ‘You came to me with a proposition,’ he recalls suddenly. ‘You helped the navy to thwart Zima’s attack on Morant Bay.’

‘Aye, I did.’

‘What happened after that?’

‘It’s a long story, Commodore.’

James laughs dryly. ‘I don’t think I’m going anywhere in the near future, Sparrow.’

‘Captain,’ the pirate says softly.

 

\--

 

‘Captain,’ James corrects himself automatically, looking up at him from the floor, and Jack’s breath catches in his throat. 

_Merciful gods, this can’t be happening._

_One step at a time, Jack._

He begins relating the tale.

‘Your ancestor, James Clarke. You’ve heard of him, I take it?’

‘Yes,’ James says, startled.

‘He was a pirate.’

‘He—what?’

‘He was a pirate, and a nasty one at that.’

‘I—I didn’t know that.’

‘I know you didn’t,’ Jack says, pushing aside a wave of tiredness and forcing himself to focus on James. ‘Well, anyway, Barbossa got wind of the fact that this ancestor of yours had hidden a great treasure away, and the only way to unlock it was to use the blood of a descendant of Clarke’s.’

James frowns. ‘The blood of a descendant?’

‘Yours, mate. In a spell.’

‘A spell.’ James raises a sceptical eyebrow.

‘You’ve seen undead pirates and fought them yourself, haven’t you?’

James sighs. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Please go on, Captain.’

‘Zima got to you first. Shot you in the street outside the Imperial Arms, and spirited you away to his ship.’

‘When was this?’

‘Around mid-December.’

‘And then?’

‘I—helped you escape.’

‘You didn’t want the treasure, too?’ James asks, puzzled.

‘I—well, let’s just say I didn’t want Zima getting his slimy hands on it. Savvy?’

James nods. ‘I suppose I can understand that. So, you’re saying we were allies at this point? You and I?’

‘We—aye, you could say we were.’ Jack sags a little in his chains, and watches James get to his feet. 

‘How long have you been chained in this position?’ he asks quickly.

‘A couple of days. The keys are in your pocket, if you’re of a mind to free me.’

James reaches into his coat pocket, startled, and brings out the keys. ‘How did you… _I_ kept you this way?’

‘No, Commodore. I’m getting there. Now, if you please—’

‘Of course,’ James says quickly, and reaches up to unlock the manacles. 

Jack sits down carefully, rubbing his aching wrists. ‘That’s better. Thank you, Commodore.’

James kneels next to him, and rummages in his pockets for a handkerchief. Jack takes the proffered cloth and wipes the blood away from his face, burying his face in the soft, clean cloth for a moment. Taking a deep breath, Jack hands it back. ‘M’sorry. I seem to have got black smudges on it. Not to mention some nasty flecks of blood.’

‘It’ll wash off,’ James says, pocketing the handkerchief again. ‘I’m sorry I have no water or food to offer you, but I give you my word I will remedy that at the first opportunity.’

‘You’re very kind,’ Jack says softly, leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed.

‘Sparrow—’

‘Captain, mate. Captain. You know that.’

‘Captain, I would not have you maltreated further.’

Jack nods, keeping his eyes closed. ‘You were always a fair man, Commodore.’

James sits down next to him, his back against the wall. ‘What happens when I’m… not here? Do I remain unconscious?’

‘No. Clarke took over your body, and when you aren’t here, he is.’ He turns his head sideways to look at James.

James looks stunned. ‘You mean—it’s my body, and not me? Someone else is in my body?’

‘And you were in his, J—Commodore. You stabbed him with your own knife.’

James groans. ‘I stabbed my own body? This is a little hard to swallow, Captain.’

Jack shrugs. ‘It’s what happened, Commodore.’

‘What happened to Zima?’

‘Can’t say. He took off with the treasure.’

‘What happened to me? You said I was in Clarke’s body. How did I get back into mine?’

‘I don’t know, Commodore. I don’t know how you came back.’

‘If this has all indeed happened, does that mean I’m in Clarke’s body when I’m not here?’

‘No. No, you can’t be, Commodore.’

‘Why not?’

‘That body is dead.’

James sucks in his breath sharply. ‘And I was—I was in it when that happened?’

‘Aye.’

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘I buried you myself, Commodore.’ Jack’s shoulders sag with weariness, and he wraps his arms around himself, drawing his knees up to his chest.

He feels a contrite hand on his shoulder, and fights the longing to bury his face in James’s chest and cling to him.

‘I’m sorry, Captain. You’re in no state to keep answering my questions. Try to sleep, if possible.’

 

\--

 

James holds the bars of the cell and looks down the corridor. There is no one in sight, and he considers shouting for the guard, but a look at the sleeping pirate stops him. Sparrow is curled into a ball, his eyes shut tightly. To raise a noise now would wake him, and James knows without a doubt that Sparrow has been badly mistreated. 

He holds his peace and sits down next to the pirate captain again, distracting himself from thoughts about his own unremembered death by studying the sleeping man. Sparrow looks curiously vulnerable when asleep, his braided hair with its small trinkets against his cheek, one hand clutching his hat tightly. Something tiny glitters at his wrist, and James gingerly pushes back the cuff of Sparrow’s sleeve to look more closely at the small figurine tied to his wrist with a worn red thread.

He is suddenly overcome with a blinding flash of memory that takes him back seventeen years to his first night in Jamaica. Half his life ago, and yet the words spoken to him in an alley by a gentle stranger are as clear in his mind as if they had just been spoken to him. _Captain, love. Just… Captain._

Along with the words come images of what they had done that night, and James feels an involuntary shiver run down his spine as sensations come back to him as well. The feel of the stone wall beneath his hands, his head flung back against a steady shoulder, a hand stroking him, the man behind him thrusting deep inside him, making him cry out with overwhelming sensation. He gasps aloud, clutching Sparrow’s wrist tightly, and the pirate stirs in his sleep.

‘James,’ he murmurs, rolling over and burying his face in James’s hip, his arm sliding around James’s waist. He is still quite soundly asleep.

_James._

His hand automatically reaches out to touch Sparrow’s thick, dark hair, and Sparrow sighs in his sleep and burrows closely into James’s side. James keeps his hand on Sparrow’s head, stroking the hair beneath his fingers tentatively, his mind racing with the sudden recognition of who the anonymous lover from that distant night had been.

 _There is more to this,_ he realises suddenly. _The time we spent together recently… Sparrow knows about that night. He knows more than he told me about what happened between us recently._

Why else would Sparrow have said his name in his sleep? Why else would he be clinging to him now in his sleep, as if James’s touch was not only familiar to him, but necessary?

Jack. Not Captain. Not Sparrow. Not any more. _Jack._

James’s reeling thoughts are interrupted by the unwelcome sensation of his guts twisting in a knot, and he reaches down without thinking to shake Jack’s shoulder.

‘Jack!’

Jack is instantly awake, his body springing into alertness as he sits up. ‘What is it, James? What’s wrong?’

‘It’s happening again,’ James says as calmly as he can. ‘I think we’d better restrain me, in case Clarke takes over again.’

Jack is already reaching for the chains as James gets to his feet, and he fastens a manacle around his wrist himself before letting Jack chain his other wrist as well. There are a hundred things he wants to say, but a choking sensation in his chest refuses to let him speak, and he convulses in his chains, feeling his mind beginning to lose its hold on his body. 

Jack’s arms are around him, holding him tightly, and the last thing he hears is Jack’s voice, fierce against his ear. ‘Stay with me, James. Fight him. Fight him. You can do it.’

 

\--

 

James’s body goes limp in its restraints, and Jack holds him close, mustering all his strength to keep his despair at bay. 

_It’s going to be all right. He’s going to fight. He’s going to come back._

He quickly unties the worn thread around his wrist, and fastens the small jade pendant around James’s wrist. _For luck, James._

 

\--

 

James does not wake up. More than an hour passes before the Commodore’s absence is finally noticed, and two red-coated guards unlock the door to the cell.

One of the guards holds Jack at sword-point as the other begins unlocking the chains holding up the Commodore’s limp body, and James crumples to the floor as his bonds are freed. 

The guard watching Jack is distracted for a moment, and Jack kicks his wrist to knock the sword out of his hand.

He pushes the man into his companion, sending them both to the floor, and bolts for the door. He pauses for an instant to look over his shoulder at James, lying pale and still on the floor. His hand clenches around the door frame as he hesitates, torn, but the guards are already getting to their feet, hollering, and he turns back around and runs.

The sounds of running feet in pursuit resound in his ears as he flees down the passage that Groves had once led him down. He emerges from the dank tunnel into the night air, gasping for breath, and just as the first of the guards comes tearing out of the passage behind him, he climbs the nearest rock and throws himself into the sea.


	29. Chapter 29

‘Jack?’

James’s eyes open to a bright blue sky above, the sun scorching, and he shields his eyes with his arm as he sits up.

One glance around tells him that he is very, very far away from Port Royal. He is on a grey plain, where nothing seems to bear life. There are a few low hills in the distance, and the sound of running water can faintly be heard, but everything seems colourless and lifeless. Even the blue of the sky and the yellow of the sun seem like echoes of themselves.

He pulls himself to his feet, and rolls up his sleeves against the heat. His eyes fall on the small jade figure tied to his wrist, and despite the strangeness of his surroundings, his thoughts are dragged back to the cell where he has left Jack, and to the memory that had come back to him before he had succumbed to whatever force has brought him to this place. 

The knowledge that Jack had been the Captain of his anonymous encounter eighteen years ago is, he knows, merely a prelude to whatever he and Jack have shared over the previous few months. The thought of sharing anything with Captain Jack Sparrow is both bewildering and heady, and he knows that retrieving his memories is second only to finding his way out of this wasteland alive.

He is not sure what the source of his certainty is, but he is almost positive at that moment that the answers to what has happened to him lie somewhere in this place that he has suddenly found himself in. Along with the certainty, there is also an almost overriding concern at Jack’s fate, for he is certain now that the man who has held Jack captive—his own unknown ancestor—now has Jack in his power again.

He rubs his thumb lightly over the little piece of jade, and sets off to find his way out.

 

\--

 

For the next three days, he explores the land he is in, seeing no trace of another person as he does. There are no trees, nor vegetation of any sort, but the ground is peppered with small, dark pools. The surface of the water is dark and unmoving, reflecting nothing, and an instinct in him tells him not to touch it. 

To the west is a great precipice. Looking down from its edge, he can see storm-black clouds swirling below, with a crash of lightning every now and again. To the east is a wide sea with water of the most translucent blue, the unreachable horizon shimmering far in the distance. To the north and south, the horizon is ringed with hills spanning the distance between the beach and the precipice. He tries walking toward them, but they stay far away no matter how much he tries to close the distance between himself and the hills.

He finds himself fascinated by the precipice, and returns to it more than once, wondering what the stormy clouds hide. On the third day, he returns to it again and kneels at the edge, wondering if there is a possible way down.

‘What do you think it is?’ a voice says serenely from behind him, startling him so much that he has to steady himself with a hand against the ground. He looks over his shoulder to see a woman with dark, curly hair standing there, her brown, tattered dress fluttering in the wind.

James regains his composure and stands, brushing the dirt off his hands. 

‘Tia Dalma, isn’t it?’

‘You don’t know me?’ she asks, looking puzzled.

‘No. But I have heard enough about you to be able to recognise who you are.’

‘You don’t remember our voyage together on Jack Sparrow’s ship?’

‘No.’

‘I see.’

‘You brought me back.’ The realisation comes to him suddenly, as if he has known it all along.

‘Not exactly, Commodore. You’re still in this realm, aren’t you? The living are never meant to come here.’

‘I wasn’t here a few days ago,’ James points out. ‘I was with—I was in Port Royal, in my own body.’

‘You are a lucky man, Commodore.’ Her eyes flick to his wrist. ‘You have something no one in this realm has ever had.’

‘What do I have?’ he asks slowly. He holds up his arm, making the jade piece on his wrist catch the light from the unmoving sun. ‘Is it this?’

She gazes at him, unblinking. ‘Without the protection you have, James Norrington, you would not be able to survive in this land.’

‘Is there a way out?’

She shades her eyes with her hand and looks to the horizon. ‘There are secrets here that you would be wise to discover, Commodore.’

‘What secrets?’ She does not answer, but smiles enigmatically at him. ‘Please, Miss Dalma. I must know, if I am to find my way out of here.’

‘Wear that stone at all times, Commodore. That is the only advice I can give you.’

‘I hadn’t considered taking it off,’ James says evenly. ‘Do you know where Clarke is?’

‘No.’ She stares at him unblinkingly.

‘And Jack?’

‘I don’t know where he is at the moment, Commodore.’

‘Is he safe?’

‘No.’

James takes a step toward her. ‘If you know anything, I beg you, please tell me.’

‘Sparrow is playing a dangerous game, Commodore, and if he gets hurt, he will have no one but himself to blame.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You do know that he was in cahoots with Barbossa and Zima to get hold of you?’

‘He—what? Are you saying he betrayed me?’

‘No, Commodore. I’m saying he was never on your side.’

‘I see.’ James looks away from her, his eyes wandering over the almost barren land. It seems more desolate than ever.

 

\--

 

Another day passes, and Tia Dalma does not appear again for a while. James does not need to sleep or eat, for which he is grateful, for the desolate land he is in offers no respite of any kind. Despite the fact that food and rest are unnecessary, he finds himself growing weary now from his captivity in this land, for it seems certain now that there is no way out of the place.

Tia’s revelation about Jack has also come as a blow. He thinks back in frustration to the brief moments he had had with Jack in the cell before he was forced into the wasteland. What was it Jack had said? 

_Stay with me, James. Fight him. Fight him. You can do it._

How fierce and protective and tormented he had sounded at that moment, as he’d held James. Had that been an act? A ruse to make James believe he was on his side?

Tia Dalma is another enigma. There seems little doubt that she is the closest thing to an ally he has in this barren land, but not for a moment can he believe that she is entirely trustworthy. Without his memories, his instincts seem useless. To trust Jack now would be folly, but to trust Tia’s word is also something that he cannot bring himself to do. He is entirely alone.

He kneels beside one of the pools of water, wondering if he should risk touching it. Even if doing so leads to harm, at least it will be a change in the situation in which he finds himself. Any change would be welcome now.

Before he can reach out to touch the surface of the water, he senses someone behind him. He turns around quickly to find a man there, his arms folded across his chest. He gets to his feet, keeping his eyes on the man who can only be his ancestor.

‘What do you think it is?’ Clarke says calmly, gesturing with his head to the dark pool behind James.

‘I thought you were the all-powerful sorcerer,’ James says. ‘Don’t you know?’

Clarke grimaces. ‘I suppose I could push you into one of these and find out where it leads.’

‘‘Where it leads’?’

‘These are obviously portals to different places,’ Clarke says dismissively. ‘I suppose a mere sailor would not have the brains to work that out.’

‘I’d rather be a mere sailor than a pirate and a murderer,’ James says evenly, and Clarke laughs.

‘What makes you think I’m a murderer, dear boy?’

‘You killed me, didn’t you?’

Clarke’s grin widens. ‘And yet, here you are. You’re a hard man to be rid of, Norrington.’

‘As, it would seem, are you. I believe I stabbed you in the gut.’

Clarke positively cackles at that. ‘And yet, it is your body that bears the wound. I call that a kind of divine justice.’

‘If the gods are on your side, then this is a very twisted universe, indeed.’

‘The universe was never a fair place, boy.’ Clarke’s expression is more sombre now as he gazes out toward the blue sea. ‘Why do you think I went through so much trouble to fight the laws of nature, and make myself immortal?’

James shakes his head. ‘What worth is immortality, at the cost of one’s soul? One’s humanity?’

Clarke chuckles. ‘You misunderstand. I never had any humanity to begin with. Snivelling, worthless creatures, human beings. I was ashamed to be part of the race, and I am happy to report that I no longer am.’

‘What are you, then? A god?’

‘Practically,’ Clarke purrs. ‘Why else do you think I can survive being in a place like this?’

‘I’m surviving, too,’ James observes, and Clarke frowns.

‘How are you doing this? Why isn’t this place making a mere human suffocate to death? You must have powerful forces on your side.’

‘Perhaps.’ Jack’s little piece of jade feels warm against the inside of his wrist, and he is glad that it is concealed from Clarke by the cuff of his shirt.

‘Well, well. I’m impressed. Do tell me how you managed it. It seems you are just as inclined as I am to be rid of your human heritage.’

‘Oh, I’m not as knowledgeable as you,’ James says. ‘But I can assure you that whatever’s keeping me alive is very much human, and I would not have it any other way.’

‘Impossible,’ Clarke snorts. ‘Nothing human could survive this place.’

‘Perhaps you underestimate us humans.’

‘Not so much that I don’t intend to occupy your body again,’ Clarke grins, flashing his teeth. ‘If only so I can torment your pirate again,’ he goes on, when James does not respond.

James meets his gaze calmly. ‘You’ll have to get out of here first, and you won’t do that while I’m still around.’

‘He suffers beautifully,’ Clarke goes on. ‘Whether it is his mind or his body that I cause pain to. He really is a joy, isn’t he?’

‘I have no fondness for pirates,’ James says, as dismissively as he can bring himself to say the words.

‘Oh, come now. Surely you don’t expect me to believe you have no fondness whatsoever for the pirate. I saw the things you did with him.’

James says nothing, although he finds himself struck by curiosity despite the alarm he feels at Clarke’s having access to memories that he himself does not.

‘Let me show you,’ Clarke says with some amusement. He runs a finger lightly down the side of James’s face. 

Before James can respond or prepare himself, the world disappears and he is sucked into blackness.

 

\--

 

_I am in an unfamiliar house, sitting at a wooden table in the kitchen. Jack is across the table from me._

_‘I think you owe me a few explanations, Jack.’_

_He does not meet my eyes. ‘What do you want to know?’_

_‘Everything. From the start. About the deal you made with Barbossa.’_

_‘A few months ago, Barbossa found out about the spell that could unlock a pirate’s treasure. He had my ship, I wanted her back, and so I agreed to… bring you to him when the time was right.’_

_‘When did you join forces with Zima?’_

_‘I didn’t. He just… assumed I’d help him, and I didn’t correct him.’_

_‘Because you wanted the_ Pearl _back.’_

 _‘Because I wanted the_ Pearl _back.’_

 

\--

 

‘James?’

Jack awakens in his bed on the _Pearl_ , covered in sweat, and it is a moment before he recognises where he is, and that it is a knock at the door that has roused him.

‘Cap’n?’ There is another knock at the door.

‘I’m awake, Anamaria,’ he calls out, and she enters. ‘We’re almost at Tortuga, Jack.’

He nods, still on his back, his hand over his eyes.

‘Jack?’

‘I’m coming, Ana.’ He sits up and pulls his shirt on, ignoring the protests from his sore limbs. Being chained in the cell and tortured by Clarke is not an experience he will easily forget, but there are more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

‘Jack,’ Anamaria says again, hesitantly, as he shoves his feet into his boots.

‘What is it, Ana?’

‘Are you all right?’

He gives her a small smile. ‘I should be asking you that, Anamaria. How’s your wound?’ 

‘I heal fast, Jack.’

He frowns. ‘Still, you should be getting your rest.’

‘I’m fine, Jack. It’s you I’m worried about. This thing with Clarke… it’s really taken a lot out of you, hasn’t it?’

‘I just need to find Zima, and I’ll be fine.’

‘Will you? Will you really be fine, if you don’t get him back?’

‘Him?’

‘You know who I’m talking about, Jack.’

‘I will get him back, Ana.’

‘What if you can’t, Jack? What then?’

He pushes his hair back and knots his scarf securely behind his head. ‘First things first, Anamaria,’ he says, surprising himself by how calm he sounds. 

 

\--

 

‘Thought I might find you here.’ Jack looks down at Barbossa, ensconced in a dark corner of the tavern.

Barbossa grunts and offers another biscuit to the monkey on his shoulder. ‘Took you long enough to find me.’

‘How did Clarke get away from you? You had him, didn’t you?’

Barbossa shrugs. ‘I thought the Commodore had killed him for sure, but the wily bastard got better. And ran away, with little thanks for all the care I’d given him.’

Jack laughs humourlessly. ‘Aye, I’m sure you overwhelmed him with your fondness and concern for his well-being.’

Barossa pushes his hat back and leans back in his chair. ‘No matter. There’s other treasures to be found in these seas. I don’t suppose you’ve come to offer me my ship back?’

‘My ship,’ Jack corrects automatically. ‘And this matter’s not done with yet, Hector. I need to find Zima.’

‘Why?’

‘Why? Because he’s got hold of something powerful, mate. He’ll wipe the seas with us if we don’ stop him.’

‘Is that the only reason you want to find him?’ Barbossa asks shrewdly, his narrowed eyes fixed on Jack.

‘’Course, mate.’ Jack takes a swig of rum from his bottle, ignoring Barbossa’s soft laugh.

‘Is that so? Don’t tell me the death of that Navy boy has nothing to do with it.’

‘He’s dead,’ Jack says shortly. ‘Forget about him.’

Barbossa laughs out loud this time. ‘He really got under your skin, didn’t he, Jack? Never figured you as one to allow himself to be claimed like that.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hector.’

‘Don’t I?’ Barbossa grins. ‘I thought you were well nigh untameable, lad.’

‘You thought right,’ Jack snaps. ‘Now, tell me if you know where Zima is. If not, I won’t waste my time anymore, nor yours.’

‘I don’t know where he is. But I may know something else you might find interesting.’

‘Such as?’

The other man bares his teeth in a wolfish smile. ‘What’s in it for me, if I tell ye?’

‘What do you want?’

‘Half of Zima’s treasure.’

Jack raises an eyebrow. ‘We aren’t even sure what that treasure is, yet.’

‘Be that as it may. I want an equal share.’

Jack lifts a weary shoulder. ‘Fine. Now tell me what ye know.’

‘Tia Dalma escaped from Zima,’ Barbossa smirks. ‘She’s upstairs in this very inn right now, licking her wounds.’

Jack is halfway up the staircase almost before Barbossa has finished speaking.

 

\--

 

‘Well, look what the cat dragged in.’ Tia Dalma watches Jack with unblinking dark eyes as he stands in the doorway. She tucks her legs more securely under her body and takes a sip from her mug, leaning her head back against her chair.

‘I should just run my sword through you,’ Jack says calmly, his hand tight over the hilt of his sword.

She laughs softly. ‘After all I did for you and the Commodore?’

‘After you betrayed us.’

‘Does that outweigh my being able to keep the Commodore alive?’ she asks evenly.

‘No,’ he says quietly, letting his hand relax on his sword. ‘Where’s Zima?’

‘Why should I tell you?’

‘Because you won’t leave this room until you do.’

She smiles. ‘You want a wager on that, Jack Sparrow?’

‘I’m not here to play games, Tia.’

‘Then why are you here, Jack Sparrow?’

‘To ask for your help in finding Zima. And—’

‘And what?’ She leans forward in her chair, her fingers wrapped around her mug.

‘And… you know what, Tia. Can you help him?’

‘The Commodore? I might be able to.’

‘Why is this happening to him? Him and Clarke. I want to know how to banish Clarke for good.’

‘That cannot be accomplished in this realm, Sparrow. Clarke is a powerful sorcerer.’

‘If he’s so powerful,’ Jack says slowly, ‘why can’t he keep his hold on James’s body?’

‘That would be because of a potion I gave the Commodore before he died,’ she says simply.

Jack sits on the edge of the bed in front of her. ‘Tia, if you saved him, by heaven, I’ll forgive you anything. Can you help us now? This other realm… where is it? Can I get there?’

‘No, Jack Sparrow. This place… it’s not for the living. The Commodore is caught… caught between two worlds.’

‘How can I help him?’ 

‘You’ve already helped him. That charm you gave him will protect him for as long as he is there.’

‘The jade?’ he asks in surprise.

‘Aye.’

‘Tia, tell me how to get him out of that place.’

‘You cannot, Sparrow. It is between him and Clarke now.’

‘Clarke is there? With him?’

‘Aye.’

‘And his body?’

‘Will stay soulless until one of them can defeat de other. If it takes too long, his body will die. A body can only stay so long without its spirit.’

Jack groans. ‘Help him, Tia. You’ve helped us so far. Please, help us now.’

‘I thought I’d betrayed you,’ she says calmly.

‘Tia, please.’

‘In exchange for something.’

‘Why am I not surprised,’ Jack says dryly. ‘All right, what do you want?’

‘The stone. Clarke’s stone.’

‘The philosopher’s stone.’

‘Aye.’

‘Why does one like you need it?’ Jack asks curiously.

‘I’m trapped in this pathetic shell of a human body, Sparrow,’ she spits, her tone suddenly venomous. ‘I need all the help I can get to get back to my true form.’

‘I don’t have it yet.’

‘You will,’ she says confidently. ‘And when you do, you will give it to me, and I will then help the Commodore.’

‘No, you need to help him now,’ Jack says angrily. ‘You said it yourself… he can’ last long in that place.’

‘What guarantee do I have that you will give me the stone later, Jack Sparrow?’

‘I don’t want it,’ Jack says wearily. ‘All I want is to stop Zima from using it, and to get James back. You can have the stone, Tia. You have my word.’

She sighs. ‘Very well, Jack Sparrow. I don’t suppose I have anything else to rely on at the moment.’

She sets her mug down and lies down on the bed on her back. ‘Don’t try to wake me, now. I’m going on a little journey.’

 

\--

 

Jack sits in Tia’s chair and watches her as she lies on the bed, her breathing slow and even, her eyes closed. It is almost thirty minutes before she awakens, and turns her head on the pillow to fix her calm dark gaze on him.

Jack leaps out of his chair in a second when he sees that she is awake, and sits next to her. ‘Did you see him? Is he all right?’

‘Aye. For now.’

‘Can you help him? Can you bring him back?’

‘No. He has to find his own way out, Sparrow. I can only guide him. He must trust his instincts. But he is a rational man, and I do not know if he can bring himself to do that.’

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘No. He is alone.’

Jack rubs his hand wearily over his eyes for a moment. ‘All right, then. Tell me where Zima is.’

‘You do not have the strength to defeat Zima by yourself, Sparrow.’

‘I can’t sit here and do nothing, Tia.’

She gets out of bed and takes another sip of rum from her mug. ‘The last I knew, he was heading for the Isla de Muerta.’

Jack frowns. ‘How does he know where it is? It cannot be found, save by those who already know its location.’

‘He knows a great many things, Sparrow. Do not underestimate him.’

Jack stands, setting his hat firmly on his head. ‘You will try to help James, won’t you?’

‘As much as I can, Sparrow. But you must keep to our accord.’

‘If I get the stone, it’s yours,’ Jack promises, and nods at her in thanks before he leaves the room.


	30. Chapter 30

_‘Because I wanted the_ Pearl _back.’_

James’s eyes fly open and he finds himself in the wasteland, on his knees, alone. He takes a deep, steadying breath and pulls himself to his feet.

 _Jack did conspire against me, but he did it for the_ Pearl.

Finding out about Jack’s alliance with Barbossa has been unsettling, particularly so because he remembers nothing of it, save the brief snatch of conversation that Clarke has seen fit to show him. Clarke, like Tia, seems intent on convincing him that Jack is not on his side.

He feels something flimsy brush against his wrist, and pulls up his sleeve to find the worn red thread dangling loosely against his palm. The piece of jade is gone.

He looks up at the sky and finds that there is a red tint staining its blue. For the first time since he has been there, the sky darkens and the sun vanishes from sight.

‘Seen enough?’ Clarke asks softly, almost guilelessly, from behind him.

James shrugs, willing himself to appear calm. ‘You didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.’

Clarke laughs. ‘So you are absolutely unconcerned about him being in my power? A helpless prisoner in your cell?’

‘Why aren’t you in Port Royal?’ James asks, steering the subject away from Jack.

‘I believe your unexpected return has interfered with my ability to remain in your body,’ Clarke says thoughtfully. ‘How did you do it?’

‘That’s not really the question, is it?’ James says calmly.

‘Indeed.’ Clarke fixes his unwavering gaze on James. ‘I suppose the question is, which one of us will survive this hiatus, and which of us will return.’

‘I think we’re about to find out.’ James looks over Clarke’s shoulder, his eyes widening.

Clarke whips around as well, and both of them watch as the blue ocean beyond begins sinking slowly from view, to be replaced by… emptiness. There is no other word for it, James thinks, watching, frozen in place.

There is a great roar as the water begins falling away into nothing. Clarke lets out a horrified gasp, and turns his back on James and begins running in the opposite direction, toward the precipice. As James watches, the hills on either side begin to crumble and fall away as well, followed closely by the beach in front of him.

 

\--

 

He returns to the precipice to find Tia Dalma standing at the edge, serene as ever. Looking down, he sees that the stormy clouds below are darker and more turbulent than ever, and appear to be closer to the precipice now.

‘What’s happening?’ he asks, forced to raise his voice over the crashing sounds of water falling into nothingness, and hills collapsing in the distance.

‘My guess would be that it’s all going to hell, Commodore,’ she answers dryly, not looking at him.

‘I suppose I am going with it,’ he says, his voice calm.

‘Not necessarily, Commodore.’

‘Is Jack all right?’

‘I wouldn’t know, Commodore.’

‘Miss Dalma, please. You must give me something. Anything.’ He turns to her in the gathering darkness. ‘You seem to want to help me, and yet, you also seem to hold yourself back.’

‘What do you want from me, Commodore?’ she asks tonelessly, staring back at him with her fathomless dark eyes.

‘Why are you here?’

She shrugs carelessly. ‘I don’t think that matters anymore. This is something I did not anticipate.’ A loud crack accompanies her words, and James turns around to see that the beach has completely vanished now, and deep fissures are forming along the ground. 

‘Why is this happening?’ he yells over the sounds of disintegration all around them. 

‘I don’t know, Commodore,’ she says. ‘What I do know is that you are marked with something that few people who enter this realm ever have.’

‘What am I marked with?’ 

‘Your very skin’—she sniffs, her eyes suddenly growing as dark as the clouds below them—‘ _reeks_ of it.’

‘Of _what_?’

‘Stay away from me!’ She turns around and runs, and James stares after her, bewildered.

He is about to start after her when a tiny, bright movement catches his eye. He turns around to follow the small fluttering thing, but it flies straight at him and hovers in front of his eyes. He gazes at it, holding his breath. It is a tiny, perfect dragonfly, its softly beating wings a brilliant jade.

It moves away slowly, almost floating rather than flying, and he follows, attempting to keep it in sight. The feat proves nearly impossible, however, as a dark rain begins to fall, and the brilliant green of the small, beating wings in front of him is soon lost in the darkness.

There is the sound of water again, and he looks wildly around to where the ocean had been, but sees nothing except for the sight of the grey plain disintegrating around him. The sound is coming from the ground, and he sees that the once-still, dark pool of water is now being sucked away into the ground, its waters swirling darkly. He starts toward it, but finds himself tackled around the knees from behind.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ his attacker pants into his ear, holding him down.

‘Clarke, are you insane? Let go of me!’

‘You’re _not_ to touch it! It’s mine!’ Clarke gasps as James struggles beneath him.

‘Touch what?’

‘As if you didn’t know!’

James forces himself to stop struggling, in an effort to calm the other man down. ‘Upon my word, I have no idea what you mean.’

‘There.’ Clarke points with a shaking finger, and James looks to the pool to see a soft orange glow emanating from it.

‘My stone,’ Clarke groans. ‘I cannot reach it.’ 

‘Your stone?’ James twists his head as much as possible to catch a glimpse of the dark gleam in Clarke’s eyes, not unlike the expression James has recently seen in Tia’s. ‘The philosopher’s stone? How on earth…?’

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, Norrington, we are clearly no longer on earth.’ Clarke turns his eyes back to the now-empty pool, and the reason for his distraction is all too clear to James. A burst of water, dark as blood, gushes out briefly from the gaping hole like a terrible fountain.

‘The rosarium,’ Clarke gasps wildly, letting go of James abruptly and stumbling toward the fountain. 

The ground shudders violently under them and Clarke loses his footing, or perhaps deliberately throws himself forward; James cannot be sure which it is. He watches Clarke reaching desperately into the water to the amber stone that is glowing softly at the heart of the fountain, his scrabbling fingertips almost, but not quite, touching the slippery surface of the stone.

James pulls himself to his feet as the ground beneath him trembles again, a narrow crack opening between his feet. Clarke is definitely knocked off his feet this time, and falls forward into the gaping hole in front of him, instantly soaked by the gushing water. James, none too dry himself in the dark rain that has steadily been falling, leaps forward instinctively to grab Clarke by the collar, preventing him from disappearing down what looks like a black shaft leading into the depths of the ground. 

As his nemesis struggles desperately to find a handhold on the slippery edge of the chasm he is dangling over, James looks down into his ancestor’s disorienting green eyes, the sensation of looking at a face identical to his own absolutely disconcerting for a second. Clarke struggles wildly in his grasp, and James sees that he has managed to grip an edge of the ground, and is even now groping desperately in an attempt to reach the glowing stone bobbing placidly in the midst of the turbulent water spurting out of the ground. 

‘Let it go, Clarke!’ James yells above the sounds of the world collapsing around them. ‘Take my hand, or you’ll fall!’

‘I can reach it!’ Clarke gasps, his fingers straining. ‘Just… just a little more!’

The ground trembles beneath James’s feet again, and he lets go of Clarke’s collar. His ancestor remains dangling above the chasm, clutching wildly at the ground with one arm, his legs flailing as his other arm stretches desperately toward the stone.

Deciding that Clarke’s fate is now most definitely in his own hands, James tears himself away from the enigma of the stone. If there is a way out of the waves of devastation that seem to have overtaken the place he is in, there is precious little time to find it, without having to worry about Clarke’s fate as well. 

There is nowhere to go now but back to the precipice, and as he stands close to the edge, he feels a soft fluttering at his wrist. He looks down to see the green dragonfly perched there, its tiny wings beating softly. 

‘Well?’ James says quietly, lifting his wrist close to his mouth. ‘What do you say?’ He looks down at the dark, boiling clouds below. The dragonfly beats its wings once more, and flies out into the darkness. It remains suspended in the air for an instant, its fragile wings fluttering, before it is sucked into the clouds by an invisible wind.

James takes a deep breath, clutches at blind faith, and leaps off the edge of the precipice into the swirling clouds below.

 

\--

 

_‘James? James!’ James opens his eyes to a dimly-lit room and a familiar face swims into focus before his eyes._

_‘Jack?’ He is leaning over James._

_James feels as if he’s freezing, but his body is soaked in sweat. Jack frames his face with his hands, forcing James to look at him._

_‘What is it, James? Another nightmare?’_

_James nods. ‘I was back in Zima’s brig. I can’t get seem to get it out of my head, Jack.’_

_Jack’s face tightens for a moment before he pulls James hard against him, James’s sweat-dampened skin close against his cool, bare chest. ‘It’s all right, James. You’re safe.’_

_It takes James several moments to recollect that they are in the safe house in Morant Bay, that he is indeed safe with Jack._

_James pulls away after a minute and turns away from Jack, swinging his legs down to the floor to feel the cool wood under his bare feet._

_‘James?’_

_‘I’m fine, Jack.’ James is not fine, but this is new to him. This sense of being completely vulnerable with another person is something he’s never felt before, and at that moment, all he wants is to bring some space between himself and Jack, to keep him at bay and not expose himself so utterly to him._

_He stays quiet, and James is grateful. The sound of rain pattering outside leads him to the window. He throws it open, swallowing lungfuls of wet air and leaning into the fine droplets of rain that fall on his face and chest._

_The rain soothes him, awakening his mind and refreshing his senses. He turns around to find Jack sitting at the edge of the bed, his back toward James. ‘Jack?’_

_Jack turns his head instantly, and something in James’s heart catches at the sight of how beautiful he is in the light from the single candle beside the bed, dark shadows flickering in his eyes, the charms in his hair sparkling in the light._

_‘Would you come here?’ James asks._

_He comes to stand beside James, taking deep breaths as James had, letting the spray from the rain fall on his body as well. They stay silent for a while, but James clasps Jack’s hand in his. He allows James to lace their fingers together, squeezing his hand as he turns to him, and James finds his breath stolen by the depth of affection and concern in Jack’s eyes. He looks strangely vulnerable without his head scarf, his hair framing his face, and James realises that Jack is as defenceless with him, as exposed, as James is with him._

_‘I’m fine, Jack,’ he says again, and this time he really means it._

 

\--

 

James’s eyes fly open, and the first thing he sees is an unfamiliar ceiling above his head. 

‘James?’ a voice says hesitantly, and he turns his head on the pillow to look at the young man sitting in the chair beside the bed.

‘William?’ 

‘Thank god you’re awake. It’s been days.’ 

James struggles to focus on Will Turner’s face, his mind still accustomed to the wasteland he has been in for the past several days. ‘Where… is this your house?’

‘Yes.’

‘William—’

‘Yes?’

‘Jack. Where’s Jack?’


	31. Chapter 31

The _Pearl_ shivers softly as she rides the waves, as if she feels something of her Captain’s frame of mind. Jack’s hands are tight over the spokes of her helm, his mind at Fort Charles as he steers his ship into a cove at the Isla de Muerta. 

The _Prince_ and the _Angeline_ are docked at one end of the island, and Jack carefully leads the _Pearl_ into an adjacent cove. There is no point in hiding from Zima now, but he also does not want the _Pearl_ to be in firing range.

Seeing the _Angeline_ again brings to mind the day when he had buried James at Carra, and the desolation returns in a heartbeat as he recognises that there is still much that could go wrong. There is no certainty at all that James will return from wherever he is trapped. Clarke is surely powerful enough to ensure that he is the one who regains control over James’s body.

 _One thing at a time_ , Jack begs his racing mind, trying to pull himself together for his imminent confrontation with Zima. 

‘Cap’n, are you sure this is a good idea?’ Anamaria asks a few minutes later, as she enters the great cabin. He slides a small knife into his sash, and straps his sword-belt more closely around his waist.

‘If you have a better idea, I’d be happy to hear it.’

‘You know I don’t,’ she snaps. 

‘Then leave me be, Ana.’ He checks that he has enough ammunition for his pistol, and tucks the weapon into its sheath.

He takes a deep breath and turns to his first mate. ‘You’re in charge. If I don’t return in two hours, get yourself and the _Pearl_ out of here. Savvy?’

 

\--

 

‘Stay away from him, Will,’ Elizabeth says sharply from the door, and both James and Will turn to her.

She holds out her hand to her husband. ‘Come away from him.’

Understanding flickers in James’s mind. ‘Jack told you about Clarke.’

‘He told us both about Clarke,’ Elizabeth says, glaring at Will, who allows himself to be pulled away from his chair.

‘Elizabeth,’ he protests. ‘Surely it’s obvious that this is James.’

‘Nothing is obvious, Will,’ she says sharply. ‘Nothing.’

James sits up and puts his feet down on the floor, barely hearing the Turners’ words. ‘Where’s Jack?’ he says again, looking up at Elizabeth.

She bites her lip. ‘I’m not saying anything to you. Will, I think we need to fetch the lieutenants. We can’t handle Clarke by ourselves.’

‘I’—James stands, pushing aside the swell of memories in his head—‘am not Clarke. Do you understand?’

Will looks uncertainly from James to Elizabeth, and James holds her gaze. ‘Prove it,’ she whispers finally.

‘Elizabeth,’ he says, ‘I don’t have time for this. I have no proof for you. Just my word that I am James Norrington.’

 

\--

 

An hour later, having shaved, bathed and eaten, James enters the Turners’ parlour to find Gillette and Groves waiting for him. 

‘Commodore?’ Groves says uncertainly, standing up.

‘Theo, Drew.’ James holds out a hand to each of them, and finds both his hands clasped warmly in theirs. 

‘It really is you,’ Gillette whispers.

‘It is, I assure you. But there is no time. Can we get hold of a ship?’

‘The East Indiaman _Victory_ is in Port Royal,’ Groves says. ‘She’s the only ship that is fast and powerful enough.’

James nods, and sets his hat firmly over his wig. ‘Excellent. Then it appears as if we owe Lord Beckett a visit.’

 

\--

 

‘Commodore Norrington.’ Beckett barely glances around from where he stands at the window, his hands clasped together behind his back.

‘Lord Beckett. Thank you for seeing me.’

Beckett turns around slowly. ‘It appears as if you have come with a strange request.’

‘Lord Beckett, we cannot hope to defeat Zima without the _Victory_.’

‘You have already lost two of the finest ships that the Royal Navy had stationed in the Caribbean. I will personally see to it that you face court martial for the loss of the Interceptor and the _Dauntless_. Besides, it is now common knowledge that you are descended from a notorious pirate. You will hang for your crimes, Norrington.’

Before James can respond, Beckett turns back to the window. ‘Your request is denied. Count your last few remaining days of freedom, Commodore. I am going to see you clapped in irons, and imminently.’

James knows that further talk will yield nothing. He opens the door and leaves without looking back.

 

\--

 

They commandeer the _Victory_ under cover of darkness that night. The great ship is still being fitted for her position as the EITC’s new flagship in the Caribbean, and there are no more than a few workmen and a few guards on board. With Beckett’s men locked safely in the brig, James gives the command for the ship to set sail to Tortuga, Jack’s last known location.

 

\--

 

‘You’re as bad as Jack Sparrow,’ Tia Dalma observes as he stands in the doorway of her small room on the first floor of the Faithful Bride.

‘He was here, wasn’t he?’

‘Aye. He begged me to help you.’

‘That’s why you came to the wasteland,’ James realises.

‘Aye.’ She sniffs again. ‘You still reek of him, as he does of you.’

‘Miss Dalma, please. Tell me where he went.’

‘The Isla de Muerta. Zima is there.’

‘Will you come with us?’

She gazes at him for a long moment, before nodding silently.

 

\--

 

Jack’s mind moves faster than his agile, booted feet over the sand as he leaves the _Pearl_ and heads toward the cove where the _Angeline_ and the _Prince_ are sheltered. 

_Think. You need a plan._

Even as he closes the distance between himself and Zima’s ship, he realises that Anamaria has been right. _James wouldn’t approve either_ , a small voice in his mind pipes up. He shushes it away. It would never do to start thinking of James now. 

He is suddenly reminded of the smell of pancakes cooking in the house at Morant Bay. James in the morning, his hair mussed, his loose shirt open to the waist, and Zima’s men in the kitchen, eating breakfast. Pancakes.

Karcher. He’d been there, poor devil. He’d given himself up to Davy Jones’s servitude, rather than continue being Zima’s crewman.

_Hmmm._

His feet move away from the beach and toward the rocks to his right, beyond which are thick groves of trees. _Zima’s been holed up here a while… there must be a spring or stream fairly close by, where they can get fresh water._

He climbs over the rocks and jumps down on to the soft ground on the other side, his sure feet finding their bearing as soon as he lands. Pushing overhanging branches out of his face, he starts off into the trees. Sure enough, he has not gone further than a few hundred feet when he hears the sound of voices. 

Taking a long breath, he steps out into the little clearing ahead of him, where three of Zima’s men are chopping wood.

‘Lovely day for woodcutting, innit?’ he says, smiling easily.

 

\--

 

The journey takes a little over a week, during which time James consults with Tia as much as possible to try to determine what can be done when Zima is found.

Tia is surprisingly cooperative, and although James knows that her compliance is the result of her wanting the stone for herself, he is grateful for the moment.

He tells her about seeing Clarke struggling to get to the stone, and she nods in understanding. ‘That explains why the place fell apart, Commodore. But you’re saying you could see the stone?’

He nods. ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’

She leans forward, her eyes glittering. ‘Do you know what this means? Not everyone can see it, Commodore.’

‘I don’t understand what the stone has to do with the place being wrecked.’

‘It’s protected. By many, many enchantments. It’s protecting itself. Zima must be trying very hard to find it. He must have gotten close.’

‘This ship of Clarke’s—are you sure that’s where the stone is hidden?’

‘Aye. It was there, James. I could feel it.’

‘Feel it?’

‘Do you know what that stone is?’ she hisses, leaning forward. ‘Nay, of course you don’t. No mere mortal could. That stone, Commodore, has the power to change everything it touches to its _essential_ state. It is pure, much purer than the most precious gold. That is why it can change every corruptible substance into gold. That is why it can make people immortal… by taking away all that is corrupt in them. Imagine’—she leans forward, her voice and gaze hypnotic to James—‘imagine what it would do to a being like me.’

There is a quiet knock at the door, and James is shaken out of the spell of Tia’s voice. 

‘I’m sorry for the interruption,’ Groves says quickly, ‘but we’ll be within sight of the island soon.’

James gets up quickly and takes Tia’s leave. Going out on deck is a relief, and he breathes the salty air deeply before turning to Groves and Gillette. 

‘Well, gentlemen, it appears as if the hour of our confrontation with Zima is near now. I do not ask you to come any further with me. I can sail from here in a longboat, and be there by nightfall.’

‘Commodore—’ Gillette begins, but James cuts him off.

‘James. I doubt very much that I will hold that title again,’ he says, smiling faintly and glancing down at his civilian clothes. ‘Beckett will see to it that I don’t.’

‘Captain, then.’ Gillette smiles briefly. ‘We’re not turning back now. What are your orders?’

James looks toward the horizon, where the mist surrounding the Isla de Muerta is already visible. ‘The fog should conceal our approach, but let’s anchor her as far away from the island as possible. Moor her at one of the smaller islands. We’ll take the boats from there.’

‘Aye aye, Captain,’ Gillette grins.

 

\--

 

After the _Victory_ is sheltered at one of the small islands that surround the mist-shrouded isle, James waits for cover of darkness before setting off in a longboat with Tia, having silenced Gillette and Groves’s protests about being asked to remain on the ship. There is no moon that night, and he is thankful for that, although the darkness makes their route more difficult. Tia sits moodily in a corner of the little boat, chewing on her lip and saying nothing. James cannot see any trace of the legendary sunken ships that inhabit the waters around the island, but knowing that he is sailing over the graveyard of several ships makes a chill run down his spine. 

That feeling is presently superseded by the knowledge that he will see Jack soon, for the dark, elegant shape of the _Pearl_ is now visible to him, silhouetted against the night sky. Her lights sparkle from a distance, warming him from within, their wavy reflections dancing over the rippling water. 

He moors the boat a short distance away from the great ship, and finds that their arrival has been noticed by the lookout, for a shout can be heard from the ship. A rope ladder is thrown over the side, and Tia begins climbing before he can offer assistance. He reaches the deck and finds himself pulled over the railing by Gibbs’s large hand on his collar.

‘Commodore!’ Gibbs claps him on the back, grinning. ‘You made it!’

‘Let’s be sure of that, Mr Gibbs,’ a voice says calmly from behind Gibbs, who steps aside.

A hundred thoughts seem to be running simultaneously through James’s head as Jack steps in front of him, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Jack’s fathomless dark eyes meet his briefly before the captain of the _Pearl_ turns to Tia.

‘Is it him?’ Jack asks shortly.

‘Aye,’ Tia says simply.

Jack turns back to James and grips his wrist, pushing back his sleeve. The piece of jade tied to James’s wrist glitters softly, and Jack releases his wrist and turns his back on the newcomers. 

‘In my cabin, Commodore, Tia,’ he says over his shoulder. ‘And Anamaria, you can stop glowering at Tia now.’ He vanishes into his cabin without looking back.

 

\--

 

James chews on an apple without really tasting it as he watches Jack consult with Tia, their dark heads bent together over a chart. 

‘Don’t think badly of him, Commodore,’ Anamaria says softly from behind him, and he turns around, surprised.

‘What do you mean, Ana?’

‘I know it seems he’s being a bit harsh with you, but it’s only because he was so wrecked by what happened.’

‘Was he?’ James says tonelessly, glancing at Jack. Jack looks up for a moment and their eyes meet briefly across the great cabin. After a second, Jack looks away again, his face expressionless.

James sighs to himself and turns back to Anamaria. ‘What’s happening here? Where’s Zima?’

‘You won’t believe what Cap’n Jack’s been up to,’ Anamaria grins. ‘He sweet-talked some of Zima’s crew into joining us. Zima must be fuming, but he can’t do anything. We’re just biding our time, now. He’ll break anytime, we think.’

Despite himself, James smiles. ‘Trust Jack to do the impossible,’ he says. ‘So there’s been no confrontation with Zima yet?’

‘Not yet, Commodore. But it should be soon now.’

James nods his thanks and glances at Jack again. The kohl around his eyes is shimmering in the light from the lanterns as he talks animatedly with Tia, his hands moving incessantly. 

James turns away and returns to the deck of the _Pearl_ to lean against the railing, watching the reflection of the ship’s lights in the dark water below, his thoughts as clouded as the thick mist that hides the horizon from view.


	32. Chapter 32

After several minutes, Jack comes to stand beside James at the railing of the _Pearl_ , their bodies casting dark shadows on the water below.

‘What happened with Clarke?’ Jack asks quietly, looking down at his clasped hands.

James glances sideways at him, and then turns away again. ‘I’m not sure.’

Jack turns to look at him askance, leaning one elbow against the railing. ‘What do you mean?’

James shrugs. ‘I barely managed to get away myself. As far as I know, he’s still stuck there.’

‘Where, exactly?’

‘I’m not sure where it was. But I’ve got my memories back,’ James says.

‘Oh,’ Jack says again, faintly. He looks around, and James thinks that he seems almost frantic. ‘I should… I should get back inside,’ Jack says, and turns away.

‘Jack, wait,’ James says, taking hold of his arm. Jack stops but does not turn back to James. He shuts his eyes tightly. 

James loosens his hold on Jack’s arm, and Jack practically bolts back into his cabin.

James takes a deep breath, and follows him inside. Jack is sitting in a chair at the large, ornate wooden table, one hand covering his eyes. 

‘I want to show you something,’ Jack says, dropping his hand and looking up as James come in. He picks up a book, and James sees that its title is the _Mutus Liber._

‘What is it?’ 

Jack opens the book to a page with a Latin inscription. ‘Look at this,’ Jack says, running a fingertip over the words. ‘Tia mentioned something about the stone not being visible to everyone, and this inscription suggests the same thing. Maybe the reason Zima hasn’t been able to find it yet is that he can’t see it. But that would mean we won’t be able to see it either.’ Jack glances up at him.

‘I could see it,’ James says simply. ‘When I was with Clarke. If I can get on board that ship, I may be able to find it.’

‘Wait,’ Jack frowns. ‘If the stone was with Clarke, how could it be on the ship too?’

‘I don’t know, Jack. That place… it wasn’t real. It seemed as if things there were… I don’t know. Echoes of what they are in the real world. And they… behaved differently.’

Jack’s eyebrows disappear into his scarf. ‘ _Behaved_ differently?’ He is almost smiling now, and James smiles too.

‘I don’t know how else to put it. Your… the piece of jade turned into a little flying creature. A dragonfly, I think.’

‘It did?’ Jack says, curious. ‘Why?’

‘I have no idea whatsoever. I thought I’d lost it, and that was…’ He sees the look on Jack’s face change, and goes on quickly. ‘It showed me the way out. Jack, what _is_ that thing? Where did you get it?’

‘It’s the funniest thing,’ Jack says thoughtfully. ‘I got it the same night that I met you for the first time… in Jamaica.’

‘That’s a strange coincidence,’ James says, amazed.

‘I’m not so sure now that it was a coincidence, James.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The antique shop I found it in… the owner said it was charmed.’

‘Pirates buy things in shops?’ James asks, only half-joking.

Jack laughs. ‘Sometimes. The owner said it had some sort of an enchantment on it… that it was some kind of talisman.’

‘Is that why you bought it?’

‘’Course not,’ Jack says with a straight face. ‘You’ve been hanging ’round with undead pirates too long, James. I just bought it because it was pretty.’

James laughs out loud at that, and Jack smiles. They are quiet for a moment before Jack speaks again. 

‘It’s good. To have you back, James. I was—’ He breaks off and shakes his head, grimacing. ‘It’s just good to have you back.’

‘It’s good to be back,’ James says, looking down at Jack. The kohl-rimmed eyes are on him now, gazing unflinchingly, and he feels his breath catch. ‘You were telling me about the jade piece,’ he says quickly.

‘Aye.’ Jack averts his gaze, a fingertip scratching distractedly at a whorl on the surface of the wooden table. ‘A talisman, that’s what the antiquarian said.’

‘If it does offer protection, why would it protect me?’ James muses aloud. ‘It belongs to you.’

‘I think…’ Jack reaches for the bottle of rum on the table, and takes a long swallow. ‘I don’t know what to think. It’s good it protected you.’ 

‘Tia suggested that it would protect me,’ James remembers suddenly. ‘She asked me not to take it off.’

Jack says nothing, his finger still tracing designs on the wood. James reaches for the open book on the table, intending to look at the inscription again, but his hand stills as he sees Jack’s eyes fall on his wrist. Jack’s fingertip touches the jade very lightly, and James feels the warmth from Jack’s skin, close to his own, tentative, as though they have never touched before. 

‘It has begun.’ Tia Dalma’s voice shatters the silence between them, and James tears his eyes away from Jack to look at her as she steps into the cabin.

‘What’s begun?’ he asks quickly.

‘Zima has found it, Commodore. I can sense it.’

‘The stone?’ Jack springs to his feet. 

‘Aye,’ Tia says calmly. ‘It will not take him long to master its secrets now, Jack. Whatever else he may be, he is not a foolish man.’

‘I don’t even know what its secrets are,’ Jack says, ‘and I’ve been hearing and reading about it for more than twenty years.’

‘Aye, Jack Sparrow, but you never had it in your possession.’ Tia slumps wearily into a chair.

‘Miss Dalma, Jack,’ James says, remembering something. ‘What’s the rosarium?’

Jack throws him an astonished glance. ‘How’d you hear of that?’

‘Clarke mentioned it.’

‘The rosarium philosophorum,’ Jack says, looking at Tia.

‘The fountain of life,’ she nods.

‘Of all the interpretations of the _Mutus Liber_ that I found,’ Jack explains, ‘most saw it as allegorical. But I met a scholar in Frankfurt more than ten years ago, who showed me sketches he’d done of a fountain. The upside down fountain, he called it. From what I could gather, it’s not an allegory. The stone creates it, and it’s the elixir of life.’

‘Crude, but true,’ Tia mutters, soft malice in her voice. ‘That is all mortals look for. Especially mortals like Clarke. Eternal life. What they never realise is that the stone is meant to transform things to their essential state.’

‘So if Zima uses it, what will he be transformed into?’ James asks.

‘I don’t know, Commodore. But it won’t be pleasant. He will control the seas, and become more powerful than Davy Jones himself.’

‘He must be stopped, then,’ James says calmly. Jack’s eyes meet his, and he sees his own determination reflected there. 

‘Aye,’ Jack says simply. He turns back to Tia. ‘Is there a way?’

‘Not to stop him, no,’ she says slowly.

‘Then what? What is it we can do?’ 

‘Undo this. Undo the spell that Barbossa did, the one that set all this in motion.’

‘How will that undo all this?’ James asks, bewildered. ‘Zima still has the stone.’

‘When you awoke after your death,’ Tia reminds him, ‘you had no memory of the past few months, did you? You told me that.’

‘No, I didn’t. But what—’

‘The potion I gave you before you died… that preserved the part of you that had existed before Barbossa and I did a spell that would lead us to your ancestor, and set in motion the spell that would release the power of the stone. When you defeated Clarke, you regained control of your destiny, which would have been Clarke’s otherwise.’

‘I didn’t defeat him,’ James says, puzzled. ‘I left him there, and I escaped.’

‘You resisted the lure of the stone, Commodore. You broke free. There are few who could see what you did, and not be tempted by it. Clarke remained trapped in his own spell, because he could see naught else but his own greed.’

‘This reversal you speak of,’ Jack says urgently, leaning forward with his hands on the table. ‘How is it to be done? What will it do?’

‘You destroy the stone, and Clarke’s heart too. Zima has it. If that is done, Jack, then the past few months will be erased. Time will go back to the day Barbossa and I did that spell, and this time, I will not do it.’

‘Time will get _erased_?’ James sits down in the chair beside Tia’s. ‘Miss Dalma, forgive me, but I don’t see how that could happen.’

‘It has happened before, Commodore,’ she says tonelessly. ‘Spells such as this have always been performed, and always will be. Only those who perform them are left with the memory of what actually happened. The rest of the world never remembers, because it cannot. There are few, very few, who have the power to retain such memories.’

‘And you are one of them,’ Jack says.

‘Aye. What I have seen happen, and forgotten, would make mere mortals insane, Jack Sparrow. Count yourself lucky if you are one of those who will not remember.’

‘I must confess I’m not convinced that time will reverse itself, Miss Dalma,’ James says honestly, guilelessly. ‘But if you say that destroying the stone and Clarke’s heart will prevent Zima from gaining control of the seas, then I will do everything in my power to see it done.’

‘It will happen as I say, Commodore.’ She gazes back at him unblinkingly. ‘If you destroy the stone and the heart, whatever happened in the last few months will become a fold in the fabric of the universe. It will be hidden away like everything else that has been forgotten, never to be remembered save by a few.’

She moves her eyes from James to Jack, and back to James. ‘That includes whatever you experienced over the last few months. Only the one that performs the spell will remember.’

James feels a cold hand clutch at something inside him. _All these days with Jack. Gone, as if they had never existed._ He looks up at Jack, and sees the same dismay in his eyes.

‘No,’ Jack says, his eyes locked with James’s. ‘No. Tia, there has to be another way.’

‘There is no other way, Jack,’ she says. ‘If there were, do you think I would lose the chance to free myself from this mortal body? One of you must do it. Destroy the stone and the heart, before it’s too late. When Zima learns how to work the stone, it will be too late. For the Caribbean, and the world. He and his kind will rule everywhere.’

‘We’ll do it,’ James says, his eyes still on Jack.

‘Aye,’ Jack agrees. ‘If it’s the only way.’

James turns back to Tia. ‘How much time do we have?’

‘After Zima starts preparing the rosarium, about a day,’ she says. ‘Which is just about enough time for me to prepare the spell that will destroy the heart and the stone.’ She gets to her feet. ‘But you must get those objects from him first. I will not board that ship of his again.’

‘You’ll have them,’ Jack promises, and she nods at them both before leaving.

 

\--

 

‘Do you believe her?’ James asks quietly as Tia’s footfalls recede.

Jack shrugs. ‘I don’t trust her, but I believe her.’

‘You think time will really turn back, as she says?’

‘Aye. But I don’t trust her to keep her word and not do the spell that started everything. If she doesn’t do the spell, she loses her chance to find the stone and free herself from the mortal body she hates so much.’

‘Then we must ensure that one of us is there to stop her from performing that spell again.’

Jack nods. ‘It’ll be easier if I do this spell of Tia’s that’ll destroy the stone. If I’m the one who remembers, I’ll know I have to stop her before she and Barbossa complete the spell.’

‘Yes, but—’ James stops, his throat constricting at the thought of forgetting everything yet again. ‘I think I should be the one who does this spell. I should be the one who remembers.’

‘And why’s that?’ Jack asks, watching him closely.

‘Because I have a better chance of convincing you of what happened between us, than you have of convincing me,’ James says simply.

‘You think so?’ Jack says evenly, his dark eyes challenging. ‘You think I’d be any more eager to believe a Navy man’s story than you’d be to believe a pirate?’

‘I didn’t say _eager_. But more open-minded, yes.’

Jack gives him a small smile. ‘You should give yourself a bit more credit, James.’ 

James sighs and gets to his feet. ‘I should get back to the _Victory_ , and let Groves and Gillette know what’s happening.’ 

Jack nods quickly and stands as well, keeping his eyes averted. ‘I’ll see how Tia’s getting along with that spell.’

James brushes the back of his hand lightly against Jack’s cheek. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ he says gently.

‘James,’ Jack begins hesitantly. ‘You know I… you _know_ , don’t you?’

‘I know.’ James smiles swiftly before leaving.


	33. Chapter 33

Jack turns the simple wooden box over in his hands. ‘This is it?’

‘That’s it,’ Tia says wearily, resting her elbows on the table. ‘That box has enough explosives to blow everything within a mile of it out of the water. Once you light the fuse, it’ll give you ten minutes to get away. I’ve enchanted it to make sure you have time to get to a safe distance.’

‘I thought you said we only had to destroy the heart and the stone,’ Jack frowns. 

‘Not just destroy, Jack. Annihilate. And the only way to ensure that is to blow Zima and his ship to kingdom come.’

‘And once that’s done, everything will revert to the way it was before you did that spell with Barbossa?’

‘Aye.’

‘And you said only the one who destroys the stone and the heart will remember?’

‘Whoever lights the fuse.’

Jack is distracted as the double doors to his cabin swing open, and James comes in.

‘Everything all right?’ Jack asks. ‘You were gone a long time.’

James nods quickly. ‘Yes, except that the heart is not on the _Prince_.’

‘How do you know?’ Jack goes very still, his eyes narrowing.

‘Because I was just there.’

‘You went on Zima’s ship by yourself?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do?’

‘Because we’d have wasted time arguing about why I shouldn’t do it.’

Jack blinks. ‘You were on Zima’s ship, and you managed to leave unscathed?’

‘He thinks I’m Clarke,’ James says quickly.

Tia laughs with delight. ‘You’re a clever one, Commodore, and no mistake.’

Jack clenches a hand under the table, trying not to let his consternation show. ‘If it’s not on Zima’s ship, then where is it?’

‘I’m not certain, but I’ll wager anything it’s on the _Angeline_.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘From what I could gather, reading between the lines of what Zima said, he hasn’t actually found the stone yet. He managed to perform a crude spell using the heart that allowed him to start working on the enchantment that will create the rosarium, but as far as I could tell, he doesn’t really know where on Clarke’s ship the stone is.’

‘Clever of him,’ Tia says thoughtfully. 

‘Clever or not, he’s got the spell working,’ Jack says, getting to his feet. 

James nods. ‘Which means we don’t have much time left.’

 

\--

 

Jack chooses to swim to the _Angeline_ rather than take a rowboat, since doing so would be far too conspicuous, even under cover of the darkness that is now falling rapidly over the island. Forced to swim underwater once he is within earshot of the ship, he emerges again beside the ship’s heavy anchor chain, and waits.

Barely a couple of minutes later, shouts of alarm ring out from the guards on the deck, and Jack smiles to himself in the darkness as he hears the sound of cannon fire. The _Victory_ is not as powerful a ship as the _Dauntless_ had been, but between her and the _Pearl_ , he is fairly certain they can keep the _Prince_ occupied until he and James have gotten the _Angeline_ away.

He hears pounding footsteps on the deck of the ship as the guards hurry away to the _Prince_. He shimmies up the anchor chain swiftly, pausing for a moment on the isolated deck to marvel at the sight in front of him. The _Pearl_ and the _Victory_ are both spitting fire at the _Prince_ , and even across the distance between the battling ships and the _Angeline_ , he can hear Zima bellowing orders as his ship is hopelessly sandwiched between the shore and the two ships attacking him.

Stripping off his soaked coat, he quickly raises the anchor and takes the helm, silently blessing Tia for the wind that she has conjured to aid their plan. He draws up alongside the _Victory_ , where the moonlight and the flashes of gunfire illuminate the grim figures of James’s men as they fire away at the _Prince_. 

James is waiting beside the bulwark, and swings over on to the deck of the _Angeline_ as Jack slows beside the _Victory_. Jack keeps a tight grip on the wheel with one hand, raising the other in farewell as Groves and Gillette watch from the _Victory_. 

‘All right?’ he asks over his shoulder as James comes up behind him.

‘Worked like a charm, I think. Zima will not be able to get past the _Pearl_ and the _Victory_.’

‘Got the explosives?’

James takes the wooden box out of his pocket. ‘Got them. I’ll see if I can find any sign of the heart or the stone while you take her around the island.’

 

\--

 

The heart of Captain Clarke is in a simple metal box on the desk in the captain’s cabin of the _Angeline_. As the sounds of battle recede into the distance, James looks down at the enchanted heart, his mind forcefully taken back to the time that he had spent in Clarke’s body, with this now-dead heart beating in his own chest. Pushing the memories aside, he closes the lid over the box and lays it aside.

He feels the ship’s speed increase, and a sudden gust of wind from the open door of the cabin causes the single lantern on the desk to fall over and shatter, plunging him into darkness. He bends over to pick up the lantern, wondering if it will light again, and freezes as something catches his eye.

‘Jack!’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘Would you come in here?’

‘A little busy here, James!’ Jack calls back.

James goes to the door. ‘I think you should see this.’

Jack glances over his shoulder and nods. ‘In a second, love. Nearly there.’ 

James smiles to himself at the absently-spoken endearment, and watches as Jack expertly brings the _Angeline_ in to shore at the other side of the island. They lower the anchor together before Jack turns to him. ‘Right, then, that’s done. What was it you wanted me to see?’

James takes Jack’s hand in the dark, and tugs him into the doorway to the captain’s cabin. ‘There. See it?’

‘Couldn’t miss it if I wanted to,’ Jack says a little breathlessly, his hand tightening in James’s. 

All over the cabin, the polished wood along the edges of the floor and walls gleams a dull orange in the dark. 

‘What is it?’ Jack whispers.

‘The stone,’ James whispers back. ‘It’s not just on the ship. I think… I think it is the ship.’

Jack feels a shiver run down his spine. ‘How is that possible?’

‘Clarke must have done this. When he discovered he had the black spot, or perhaps even earlier. He had to keep the stone safe until he could come back for it.’

‘So he made a _ship_ out of it?’ Jack whistles in amazement.

‘Looks like it,’ James says. ‘That glow is definitely the right colour. It seems almost as if he managed to combine the ship and the stone, making them one.’

‘Transfiguration,’ Jack says, running his hand over the softly-glowing beam of wood that frames the doorway. He turns to James. ‘This means we have to destroy the whole ship. Seems such a shame. She’s a lovely ship.’

James shrugs, squeezing Jack’s hand. ‘I know. But if Tia’s right about time really reversing itself, then the _Angeline_ will be restored.’

‘And the _Dauntless_ ,’ Jack says with a smile. James turns to him, but his expression changes in an instant as he looks over Jack’s shoulder.

‘Jack, _get down_!’ James grabs him around the waist and sends them both crashing to the floor as a volley of gunshots sounds around them.

‘What in the name of—?’ Jack gasps, the breath knocked out of his lungs.

‘It’s Zima,’ James groans. ‘At least three boatloads of his men, as far as I could see.’

Jack curses as he crawls to the door on hands and knees and looks around the edge. ‘You’re right. Three boats, and they’ll be here all too soon.’

‘We didn’t think he’d leave his ship,’ James says calmly.

‘Light the fuse.’ Jack gets to his feet, pulling out his pistol. ‘I’ll see if I can distract them a little.’

‘Jack, _no_. If you go out on deck, you’ll be an easy target.’

Jack pauses beside the door, keeping away from the doorway. ‘Bit too late to worry about that, James. We’re dead anyway.’

James already has a tinderbox in hand, and nods at Jack as he lights a flame. ‘All right, then. But be careful. We don’t have to die before we need to.’

Jack grins a feral grin, his teeth flashing in the light from James’s flare. ‘Right you are, Commodore.’ He disappears into the darkness outside.

James hears more gunshots and the thud of a body hitting the deck, and prays that it is the sound of Jack throwing himself down rather than falling because he has been hit. Not giving himself time to think, he places Tia’s wooden box on the desk beside the metal box with Clarke’s heart in it, and lights the fuse. The fuse flares briefly before the flame sizzles out, and sparks fly from the fuse as its end glows softly, the sparks climbing closer to the box. 

Ten minutes, Tia had said. Ten minutes are too long now, far too long, and James worries that Zima’s men will reach the ship and overpower them before the explosion, but there seems to be no way of speeding up the process. Leaving the quietly sizzling fuse, he goes to the door.

Jack is behind one of the cannons, seemingly unscathed, firing intermittently at the boats, which are so close now that James can see the faces of the men on board. He ducks his head and joins Jack, shielding himself behind the cannon beside Jack’s as he takes aim at one of Zima’s men and fires. The man topples into the water.

‘Nice one,’ Jack says calmly as he fires again. The first boat reaches the _Angeline_ , and there is a dull thunk as a hook with a rope attached to it is flung over the bulwark, embedding itself in the deck. More hooks follow, the attached ropes pulled taut as the men below begin to climb.

‘We’d better go inside now,’ James says quietly. ‘There’s no point getting ourselves killed out here.’

‘Aye,’ Jack agrees, and they throw themselves into the cabin. James slams the door shut behind them. Even as he bolts the door, it is evident that Zima’s men have reached the _Angeline_ , and heavy boots thud on the deck outside.

James presses himself back against the door, silently hoping that it will hold. Jack drops his pistol to the floor and joins him, their backs barricading the door as they watch the fuse. Their hands grope for each other’s, fingers finding each other’s and entwining. 

‘Tia did the spell on the night you gave me the letter of Marque.’ Jack speaks quickly. ‘In Tortuga. In a room at the Faithful Bride. You must get there, in case Tia changes her mind. You must stop the spell, James, or all this will happen again.’ Bullets thud into the door from outside as Zima’s men attempt to shoot their way through it, but the door holds for the moment.

‘I’ll be there,’ James says, turning to Jack and pulling him close. Their eyes meet for an instant before their lips do, and then their arms are around each other and they are kissing desperately. Behind them, the fuse sizzles as the spark that James has lit reaches the box of explosives, and the world erupts around them.


	34. Chapter 34

‘You’d best be off, then,’ Jack says, and James blinks. They are in semi-darkness, just as the captain’s cabin of the _Angeline_ had been, but there is solid ground beneath his feet, and the alley they’re in seems very familiar.

‘Commodore?’ Jack steps closer toward him, and James looks around. Of course. They’re in the alley behind the Faithful Bride, and James has just given Jack the letter of Marque. 

‘Commodore?’ Jack says again, quirking an eyebrow. ‘All right there?’

James nods, remembering the look in Jack’s eyes just before the world had exploded around them, and finds it difficult to look away.

 _Change_ , he thinks. How suddenly it can come, and yet how stealthily; how little it takes to set it in motion. He wets his suddenly dry lips with his tongue. Suddenly, the weight of the responsibility on him bears down with crushing force. The weight of memory is no better than the unbearably feather-light sensation of not being able to remember, and he remembers not remembering, of waking up in his own cell with Jack manacled beside him. Of Jack carrying the weight of memory then, and of himself, not remembering. Reversing their roles is no better, although now there is the small comfort that it is James rather than the man in front of him who carries the weight of the burden.

‘Commodore,’ Jack says with some measure of alarm now, urgency lacing his voice. ‘What is it?’

‘I believe you should accompany me to my sloop after all, Captain Sparrow.’

‘Of course.’ Jack takes his arm immediately, and the world grows more steady beneath James’s feet. They leave the alley and make their way in silence to the harbour. Jack keeps his hand lightly on James’s elbow as they walk, and James breathes deeply, grateful for the sweet clarity of the night air that helps clear the smell of gunpowder and hot, choking, flaming smoke from his lungs. 

Mercifully, he has no memory of the precise moment of his second death; only of Jack’s body pressed close against his, burning heat and smothering smoke surrounding them both, of feeling rented inside as he realises that there is nothing he can do to prevent Jack’s death. The memory makes his breath ragged with desperate relief. Even if Jack does not remember, it has been done. Undone, rather… the whole journey completely undone, existing now only within James’s head, and Tia Dalma’s.

They reach James’s boat and jump down lightly on to the deck, and James winces as his battle-weary body is jarred by the movement. He enters his cabin and sinks down into a chair, feeling the blood drain from his face as weariness and relief overcome him.

Jack kneels in front of him and thrusts his flask of rum into his hand, pushing it up to his mouth. ‘Drink, mate. Don’t say a word. Just drink.’

He lets his hand fall away as James raises the flask to his lips, letting the warmth of the rum blaze its way down his throat. Some measure of clarity returns to his mind, and he looks down at Jack. ‘Is it close to midnight yet?’

Jack shakes his head, the charms in his hair clinking softly. ‘A couple of hours to go yet. Why?’

‘You have a meeting with Barbossa tonight.’

Jack’s lips part in astonishment. ‘How did you—’

‘I don’t have much time to explain how, Jack, but I’ll try as best I can.’ Jack’s eyes widen at James’s use of his first name, and for a moment all James wants to do is to pull Jack up into his arms and just hold him.

‘What’s going on?’ Jack whispers, his eyes searching James’s face.

‘That spell that Barbossa plans to do with Tia… it’s going to set a chain of events in motion that will eventually lead to your death, and mine. I’m here to ask you to reconsider your deal with Barbossa.’

Jack stands slowly, the shutters coming down over those unfathomable eyes. ‘What deal would that be, exactly?’

‘When you came to me with the information about Zima, it wasn’t just to keep him out of your hair, as you put it. It was also a ruse to get me to trust you, so you could lure me into Barbossa’s trap when the time was right.’

‘Commodore—’

‘Jack, I’ve just travelled back five months in time. During that time, I’ve been shot, I’ve been abducted by pirates, I’ve fallen asleep with you in a longboat, and I’ve died. Twice. I don’t expect you to believe a word I’m saying, but Tia Dalma will corroborate my tale, strange though it may seem.’

Jack opens his mouth, and shuts it again. James passes him the flask with a sigh, and Jack grabs it and swigs down a good deal before sitting down heavily at the edge of the narrow bed in James’s cabin. After a long silence, he looks up at James quizzically. ‘Did you sleep with me twice, or did you die twice?’

James laughs helplessly, feeling as if he’s on the verge of delirium. ‘I died twice.’

‘And the… sleeping together part?’

‘That was once. And we didn’t—we just slept together, Jack. In a boat.’ James is surprised at how difficult it is to get the words out. His very bones feel exhausted, filled with an indescribable solitariness that makes him yearn for Jack, for _his_ Jack, that makes him crave what he cannot possibly have now. But Jack is here, and he is alive, and he looks far younger than he had done at the end of their journey together, with the weight of everything that had happened crushing the spirit out of him. James knows that he wouldn’t have it any other way, and that certainty provides him with some measure of strength.

‘Oh.’ 

‘There’s something else. Kingston, twelve years ago. You bought a piece of jade at an antique shop, and the same night, you had an encounter with a Naval lieutenant by the docks.’

He tilts his head in that manner that James has come to find so endearing, amazement writ on his face. ‘How—?’ James watches as realisation dawns on his face. ‘James. He said his name was James.’

‘So it was, Captain.’

Jack lets himself fall back on the bed, his hand covering his eyes. ‘This is too much,’ he mutters. ‘Too bloody much.’

James pushes his weariness aside and stands up, walking over to the bed to rest his hand on the arm covering Jack’s face. ‘Jack, I know this is a lot to take in. But we have work to do. I need you to trust me, and I need your help.’

He sits next to Jack, keeping his hand on Jack’s wrist as he lowers his arm and looks up at James. ‘Weeks,’ he says suddenly, with a nervous laugh. ‘I’ve been lusting after you for _weeks_ , and I didn’t know that you’d… that we’d already…’ He breaks off into helpless laughter.

‘You’ve been—what?’ His candid admission throws James completely for a moment, despite everything that has happened. 

‘Wanting you. Ever since that night in the alley, when you had a gun pointed at my chest and all I could think of was how green your eyes were.’

James lets go of his wrist and drops his gaze to the floor, feeling his face flush. ‘Oh.’

‘And now,’ Jack says thoughtfully, ‘you’ve come to me with the strangest tale I’ve ever heard. And let me tell you, Commodore, Captain Jack Sparrow’s heard and seen some mighty strange things in his time.’

James looks at him again. ‘You don’t believe me, then?’

‘Did you seriously expect me to?’ 

James runs his hand wearily over his face. ‘No. No, of course not. I must sound like a madman.’

‘Then what were you hoping to accomplish by telling me this tale of yours?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t have time to think. One moment I was somewhere else, in another time, and the next I was standing in that alley with you, as if none of it had ever happened.’

Before James can think of anything else to say, Jack has grabbed the front of his coat and pulled James down over him, so that their faces are inches apart. ‘You want me to believe you?’ he says, his eyes boring into James’s. ‘Then prove it. Prove to me that what you say is true.’

‘How?’ James says, staying still under Jack’s firm grip. ‘How should I prove it to you?’

‘Show me what we had,’ Jack says steadily, his breath mingling with James’s. Before James can respond, Jack’s grip on his coat tightens and pulls him even closer, and his mouth is on James’s.

James finds his breath stolen from him as Jack’s lips claim his thoroughly, and Jack clasps the nape of his neck with his other hand and holds James against him as his mouth moves with gentle pressure over James’s. And then it is James’s hands that are clutching at Jack’s coat as his tongue gently teases James’s lips apart, and his hand moves from James’s coat to the small of his back, pulling him completely on to the bed. James’s body responds instinctively to the familiarity of his touch—so memorable to him and so new to Jack—and he allows Jack to guide the kiss, their tongues gliding against each other, and James tastes him again, so warm, so sweet, so very Jack. 

Jack finally tugs James’s head back by pulling lightly on his hair, gasping for breath, and James buries his face in Jack’s neck, breathless. Jack’s hand is still in his hair, caressing it absently, and James lifts his head and looks down at Jack’s face, at his closed eyes, his slightly parted lips.

‘Jack?’

‘Sshh.’ He pulls James’s head down to his shoulder again, one hand still tangled in James’s hair, the other arm close around his waist. ‘I’m having a moment.’

 

\--

 

They talk quietly as they walk down the narrow street, their hats pulled low over their faces against the soft drizzle of rain that has begun to fall. Jack cannot keep silent for a second, and wants to know everything. James has to keep bringing his attention back to the task at hand, but he cannot help smiling at the energy that Jack is exuding, at his boyish excitement at the adventure they have had, and his intense disappointment at remembering none of it. 

Jack’s hand keeps brushing against James’s as they walk, sending warm shivers through his body. Jack’s nearness, his voice and his dancing eyes are all a balm that soothes James’s frayed nerves. He keeps turning his head to glance at James as they walk, his eyes warm with affection and desire, and James marvels at what a creature of instinct Jack is, and how much Jack has changed him. Just being with him now is a source of immense strength and comfort, and James allows himself to be dragged along with the tide, to let Jack’s voice and his gaze chase away his apprehensions about the imminent confrontation with Barbossa.

‘Tell me again about this ship? The _Angeline_?’ Jack says, moving closer to James to sidestep a puddle of rainwater on the street, their hands brushing again. This time James hooks a finger around one of Jack’s, keeping Jack’s hand against his as they walk. Jack’s fingers entangle immediately with his as he turns his head to flash his vivacious grin at James. James instinctively bends his head toward Jack to steal a quick kiss as they walk, and Jack squeezes his hand as their lips meet all too briefly. James feels slightly light-headed now, more like a schoolboy in love than a grown man.

‘The _Angeline_.’ James smiles as the taste of Jack lingers on his lips, mingling with the taste of raindrops. ‘She was beautiful. Also enchanted, dangerously so. You surmised that Clarke had used some form of transfiguration to mould her with the philosopher’s stone, so that they were one.’

‘Mm,’ Jack says dreamily. ‘So as long as this ancestor of yours is on board the _Dutchman_ , no one else knows about that pretty ship hidden away in some cave?’

‘Jack, don’t get ideas,’ James says warningly, throwing him a sharp glance. ‘That ship’s caused us enough trouble already.’

‘Was just curious, Commodore.’ Jack grins as he stops walking and tugs James to a stop as well, pushing him up against the wall. ‘Besides,’ he murmurs against James’s mouth, ‘you worry far too much.’

‘Jack.’ James takes Jack’s face in his hands. ‘I beg you, please. Stay away from that ship.’

To his surprise, Jack nods. ‘Don’t worry, James. I have the _Pearl_ to worry about at the moment.’

‘She’s in Barbossa’s hands,’ James remembers suddenly. ‘I’m so sorry, Jack. It completely slipped my mind.’

‘Can’t blame you,’ Jack says. ‘You’ve been to hell and back.’

‘I think I may have a plan that might help us with the _Pearl_.’ James rubs his thumb absently over the ridges of Jack’s knuckles, thinking hard.

 

\--

 

They enter the room at the Faithful Bride together, and Barbossa stands up so quickly that he knocks over his chair. Tia Dalma remains seated at the table, her quick, nervous eyes darting from Jack to James.

Before Barbossa can draw his sword, Jack’s is at his throat. ‘Sit down, Hector. I don’t plan to hurt you.’

Barbossa remains standing, and draws himself up to his full height to look down contemptuously at Jack. ‘What devilry are you up to now, Jack?’

‘Nothing worse than your own plans, mate. In fact, my plans are a far sight better than your own. Now sit, unless you like the sight of your own blood.’

Barbossa sits down in an empty chair, throwing James the same look of contempt. ‘Fraternising with the likes of him, Jack? You give your brethren a bad name.’

‘I can assure you I have my reasons, Hector, and they’re none of your business. We’re here to make you a deal. A new one.’ 

‘Put the sword away, and I might listen to you.’

‘I’m afraid you really don’t have a choice in the matter, Captain Barbossa,’ James says pleasantly, staying beside Jack. 

He shifts his eyes to James. ‘And why should I listen to a word a pirate hunter has to say?’

‘Because I’m prepared to grant you a certain measure of clemency if you agree to our terms.’

‘What terms would those be, now?’ Barbossa asks calmly, looking up at James.

‘Return the _Pearl_ to Captain Sparrow, and leave these waters. If I so much as hear of you again, I will hunt you down myself.’

Barbossa laughs. ‘Now why would I be wanting to do something like that, when I could keep the _Pearl_ for my very own?’

‘She was never yours,’ Jack says quietly. His voice is steady, but James can feel him quiver silently beside him.

‘We’ll give you good reason to do so, Captain,’ James says quickly. ‘Other than granting you pardon for your crimes.’

Barbossa quirks an eyebrow at James, but it is Jack who responds. ‘You don’t need the Commodore, Hector. We know exactly where the stone is, and we don’t want it. You’re free to go and claim it for your own.’ 

Barbossa laughs again. ‘You spin a fine yarn, Jack. But you know as well as I do that we need Norrington’s heart to break the spell that his ancestor cast on it.’

‘Ah, but here’s where my yarn gets really good.’ Jack flashes Barbossa a grin, and Tia shoots another nervous glance at them from her corner.

‘Y’see,’ Jack says, leaning close to Barbossa, ‘there are other spells to be cast after the stone is found. Spells that none knows better than the maker of the stone does.’

‘Are you telling me you’ve found a way to communicate with the dead?’ Barbossa scoffs. ‘Because I’ll not believe that even you could accomplish that, Jack, wily as you are.’

‘But he’s not dead.’ Jack grins.

‘Is that so.’ Barbossa’s tone betrays no excitement, but a sudden gleam enters his eyes.

‘Yep. Can’t rightly say where he is, but Tia here can easily do a spell to verify that he most certainly isn’t in the nether world. Can you not, Tia?’

All three of them are looking at Tia now, and James wonders if she will play along with them, or choose to stay on Barbossa’s side and reveal the truth to him. She does not look at either Jack or James, but fixes her gaze on Barbossa. ‘Aye,’ she says. ‘I can verify that easily enough.’

‘Excellent!’ Jack claps Barbossa on the shoulder. ‘Happy now?’

‘Not until the witch tells me for sure that this ancestor of Norrington’s is still alive,’ Barbossa grunts. ‘But I still don’t see why we can’t just take this one here and be done with it.’ He inclines his head in my direction as he speaks.

‘You can’t,’ Jack says cheerfully, ‘’cause if you touch him, you’ll have the wrath of the entire Royal Navy down on you. Not to mention that of any pirate in these waters who heeds my word. Savvy?’

Barbossa shrugs disgustedly, and reaches for an apple on the table. ‘Looks like you hold all the cards at the moment,’ he says, biting gloomily into his apple.

Jack beams. ‘Knew you’d see things my way, mate.’

 

\--

 

James waits outside the Faithful Bride while Jack is reunited with the loyal members of his crew, rounded up by Gibbs and Anamaria. Jack comes to join him soon enough, the sounds of the _Pearl_ ’s crew rejoicing boisterously in the tavern following him out as he comes looking for James. 

‘Shall we?’ he beams, and James smiles at him. They make their way down to the docks together in silence. Though Jack says nothing, James can feel the suppressed excitement radiating from him as he anticipates being with his ship again, and the pure happiness on his face is truly beautiful to regard. 

Even as his energy mounts with every step, James feels his own begin to drain away as it finally begins to sink in that everything is now over. The _Angeline_ is safe with her secret, his ancestor is serving his time on Davy Jones’s crew, and as long as Tia keeps her word, there seems little chance that Barbossa’s search for Clarke will find fruition. 

James hold back as they reach the cove where the _Pearl_ is moored and stand before the great, beautiful, dark-sailed ship that is Jack’s own. He closes his eyes for a moment and then springs lightly on to the rope ladder hanging at her side, climbing swiftly and disappearing over the railing.

A moment later, he returns to look down at James. ‘Are you coming, or what?’ he calls.

‘I thought I’d give you a moment,’ James calls back, smiling.

‘James, get your arse up here,’ Jack grins. ‘I want you and I want my ship and I can’t have you both while you’re down there. Savvy?’

The _Pearl_ seems warm beneath James’s feet as he steps on board. He keeps his hat pulled low over his face as Jack speaks to the crew members on board, letting them know in no uncertain terms that he will be commanding the ship again, and giving them the choice to stay or leave. Unsurprisingly, not one member chooses to leave the crew, and Jack despatches them all to celebrate with the rest at the tavern.

James gets more than one curious glance from Jack’s crew members as they leave, but he’s fairly certain no one recognises him in the semi-darkness. He’s glad about his lack of wig and his civilian clothes, but being on the _Pearl_ now, as a free man and at the end of his journey, reminds him that he is bound to return to his duty. 

The combined weight of all that he has experienced, and the sudden sense of where he belongs and where he must return to, bears down on him so forcefully at that moment that he closes his eyes, willing himself to stay calm, to take things by the moment. He’s surprised to feel Jack’s arms around him from behind.

‘You think too much, James,’ he says softly. 

James turns around in his arms and rests his forehead against Jack’s. ‘I believe you’re right, Captain Sparrow.’ He pushes all other thoughts away as he bends his head and Jack raises his face to James’s. He is determined, at least for the moment, to shelve his thoughts and give himself up to being with Jack again.

After a long moment, Jack pulls back and takes his hand. ‘Come,’ he says gently. ‘You’re exhausted.’ Shushing his protests, Jack tugs him into his cabin and through the familiar door into his bedchamber, letting go of James’s hand to light a candle beside the bed. 

‘You’re wearing too many clothes, James,’ he teases softly. ‘Get into bed, and I’ll be back in a moment.’

James sits down at the edge of the bed as Jack leaves, suddenly too weary to even contemplate removing his boots. He leans back against the pillows and closes his eyes, sleep drifting around the edges of his consciousness, but not strong enough to breach the tiredness that plagues his mind. 

He opens his eyes as he hears Jack enter the cabin again, and sits up. ‘Drink this,’ Jack says, pushing a glass of a clear red liquid into his hands. James drinks it without asking him what it is, since no words come to his mind. 

‘It’s a sleeping draught,’ Jack says, pushing him gently back against the pillows again. ‘Sleep, James. Everything else can wait.’ 

James wants to keep his eyes open, but his eyelids are too heavy. He reaches out with his hand and feels Jack’s fingers curl around his, and his other hand gently caresses James’s hair, drawing him irresistibly into the dark, not unwelcome realm of sleep.

 

\--

 

James awakens to find soft bedcovers cool against his skin, and turns his head on the pillow to find Jack gazing at him, his head propped on an elbow.

‘What time is it?’ James says the first thing that comes to mind, and Jack smiles, utterly beautiful in the candlelight, with his scarf gone and his hair falling about his face. ‘Not dawn yet,’ he says. ‘You hardly slept six hours.’

‘I slept enough,’ James assures him as his hand searches for James’s under the covers, and he draws it to his mouth to press his lips against James’s palm. ‘Did you sleep at all?’ James asks as Jack nibbles on his fingertips, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

‘A little,’ he smiles again, leaning forward to rub his nose lightly against James’s. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘I can’t tell you how much,’ James murmurs against Jack’s mouth, pulling him into his arms. He rolls over so that Jack is underneath him as he explores Jack’s mouth, his closeness feeling like the nearest to paradise that James has ever been. Jack gasps against his mouth and parts his thighs to wrap his legs around James’s waist as James moves slowly against him, letting their bodies rub against each other through the sheet between them. 

‘What was it like?’ he asks a little breathlessly as James moves his mouth from Jack’s to kiss his throat. 

‘Hm?’ James circles a earlobe with his tongue, the taste of Jack so heady and so redolent with memory that it feels pleasantly like drowning.

‘Us. Together.’ Jack moans softly as James pushes his hips down against Jack’s again, willing himself to hold back on his almost unyielding desire to assuage the yearning that has been building inside him for all the time that they’ve been apart.

‘Beautiful,’ James says against his skin, kissing his way down Jack’s chest. 

‘I want details, Commodore,’ he insists, amidst throwing his head back and arching his back as James dips his tongue into Jack’s navel, nibbling gently at its rim. 

James slips his hand under the covers and takes Jack’s cock in hand as he slides back up against him, and Jack gasps aloud as James closes his hand around him and strokes him very lightly.

‘What would you like to know?’ James nibbles his earlobe as he closes his hand a little more snugly around Jack’s cock.

Jack’s hips arch up into James’s touch. ‘Everything,’ he pants, his head thrown back, his eyes shut tightly. 

_Everything_. James’s hand keeps up its slow stroking as he nuzzles Jack’s bared throat, his own eyes closing as he remembers every touch, every moment that had passed between them. ‘I’ve been wanting to do this forever.’

‘James?’ Jack pushes a hand through James’s unbound hair, his voice strained as he opens his eyes with an effort and turns his head to look at James, his hips bucking helplessly under James’s steady stroking. ‘Did we—didn’t we do this before?’

‘No, Jack.’ James kisses his lips lightly, almost afraid now to go further, fearing that being with Jack will make him come absolutely undone. ‘Not really.’

‘You mean—this is our first time?’

‘Well, if you want to be precise, our first time was in Jamaica, when—’

‘For goodness’ sake, come back on top of me before I go insane.’ Jack tugs James’s head close, his hand tangling in James’s hair. He pulls James’s head down and they kiss again as Jack’s hand finds James’s cock and strokes him insistently, and James increases the speed of his own stroking of Jack until they are both panting into each other’s mouths.

‘Please,’ Jack says with gritted teeth, and James pushes the sheet off his hips and straddles Jack again, holding his hips down as he slides alongside him and begins moving. Jack thrusts up against him, gasping as they find the sweet relief of letting their cocks rub and glide against each other. Jack grabs James’s hips and shoves their bodies closer together as James crushes his mouth against Jack’s. And then there is nothing but the pure instinctual bliss of moving rhythmically against each other, hands moving frenetically over sweat-slicked skin as their mouths kiss and suck and bite and swallow each other’s entreaties and find overwhelming release together, and later, when James has recovered, he thinks of it as the sweetest pleasure he has ever known.

 

\--

 

James leaves the _Pearl_ before the sun has come up properly, not wanting to put Jack in a position where he has to provide an explanation to his crew for his presence. His sloop is moored not far from the _Pearl_ herself, and Jack promises to come by as soon as he has had a word with his crew.

True to his word, he arrives barely two hours later, jumping lightly on to the deck and into James’s arms. Every kiss that James shares with him seems more intense than the last, and James nearly despairs at the thought of his imminent return to Port Royal as they devour each other’s mouths hungrily in James’s cabin, stripping each other as quickly as humanly possible and making love until they are satiated for the moment.

Jack lies with his head on James’s chest afterward, and James strokes his hair with his lips pressed against Jack’s temple. Jack raises his head to look at him, his eyes bright, beautiful. ‘Come with me, James,’ he says, punctuating his words with kisses. ‘Don’t go back. Stay with me. Share the _Pearl_ with me.’

James kisses him long and hard before he says the words that he must. ‘I can’t, Jack. I have duties to return to. And besides, you…’

‘I?’ he prompts as James breaks off.

‘You don’t know what it was like. What you went through, what I went through. The way you changed when I died, Jack. I can’t be the cause of that. I won’t.’

Jack presses his lips to James’s shoulder. ‘I’m never going to let you die, James, so you don’t have to worry about that.’

James sighs against his hair, wanting nothing more than what he is asking. To abandon his duties and his life in the Navy and in Port Royal, to leave everything behind and start afresh with Jack. But there are other things to consider.

‘We live by different codes, Jack,’ James reminds him gently. ‘I’ve sworn to perform my duties, to see that the law is upheld. You may have changed my opinion of some pirates, but piracy is of different kinds. The likes of Zima still infest these waters, and if I abandon my position—’

Jack cuts him off with a finger against his lips. ‘Say no more, Commodore,’ he says with a rueful smile.

‘Where will you sail to next?’ James asks, trying to change the subject.

‘Can’t really say. I just follow the horizon.’

James brushes the back of his hand lightly against the braids dangling from Jack’s chin. ‘But you’re still my informant, aren’t you?’

A slow smile spreads across his face. ‘Aye, that I am.’

‘Good.’ James smiles against his mouth. ‘You’d better keep to your word about keeping me informed, or I might have to hunt you down.’

‘Is that a promise, Commodore?’ Jack bends his head over James’s without waiting for an answer, and it is a long time before words are spoken again.

 

\--

 

Jack stands at the pier and waves as James’s sloop sails out to sea, and James turns back with one hand on the helm to wave back at him. He watches until the _Pearl_ is no more than a dark blot against the ocean behind him before turning his attention to the open sea in front of him.

The sun glints against the jade figurine now back securely in place around James’s wrist, and as he makes course for Port Royal, he knows that his life has changed irrevocably, at least from within him if not from without. Even as his heart lifts at the thought of sailing on the _Dauntless_ again, he knows he has left behind in Tortuga what he’s come to treasure the most, and his instincts tell him it will not be long before their paths cross again. Jack has, after all, insisted on knowing every detail of the past that he cannot remember. James smiles to himself as the wind whips his hair into his face, and he heads back to Port Royal with the taste of Captain Jack Sparrow still lingering upon his lips.

 

~end


End file.
